


Hand to Hold

by wendellgee



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drarry, F/M, Friends to Lovers, HP: EWE, M/M, Nightmares, Not Epilogue Compliant, Public Blow Jobs, Slow Build, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-28
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-06 15:15:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 25,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4226727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wendellgee/pseuds/wendellgee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry's marriage to Ginny is falling apart at the seams and after winding up at St. Mungo's, he begins an unlikely friendship with Draco. As the two grow closer, Harry's forced to make a choice between keeping a promise and being happy. </p><p>Trigger warning for suicidal thoughts and an off-screen attempt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nightmare

_It’s dark all around me. I stay where I am, frozen, barely breathing. I can hear them coming closer. Do they know I’m there? The Invisibility Cloak is over me, but as I watch, he turns and looks right at me._

_I can see the long silver hair. There is only one Death Eater with hair like that and I wonder why he wouldn’t bother to hide it in his robes like the others do. Obviously, he doesn’t expect me to survive tonight. There’s no reason to hide his identity if there’s no one left to identify him. He wants me to know it’s him. He’s brave. Or stupid. He knows I never travel without Hermione or Ron, or does he know that they’re both in Detention tonight? They covered for me and Snape knew it. He couldn’t prove that I was involved in the after hours visit to his stores for some dittany, so he went for the next best thing and gave them detentions for the better part of the week._

_He left me alone and defenceless. He thought he was handing me to the Dark Lord on a silver platter._

_Malfoy continued to look in my direction, the moonlight making his mask gleam. “I know you’re out here, Potter. I can’t wait to watch the Dark Lord kill you. It will almost as enjoyable as doing it myself.”_

_There is a loud bang in the distance and a scream. A girl’s scream: high pitched, goes on forever. It’s my name. It’s Ginny._

_I drop my cloak and run to the source of the sound, stunning Malfoy as I go._

_I am too late to save her: she’s being held by four Death Eaters on what looks like an altar. A fifth stands off to the side. As I come within viewing distance, his reptilian face breaks into a smile. “Harry Potter,” he hisses, extending his hand as if he’s asking me to dance. In a way, I suppose he is. “Come and say goodbye to your girlfriend.”_

_I walk to the altar, knowing that if she’s not already dead, she will be. She’s alive, but just barely. She turns to look at me, brown eyes filled with fear and hatred. It’s my fault she’s going to die and she knows it. I shouldn’t have let her get close to me._

_Every one I love dies._

_Why should Ginny, beautiful, sweet, innocent, Ginny, be any different? She shouldn’t be a part of this. This is about him and me, but he also knows the best ways to hurt me. Our connection has given him the edge and we both know it._

_Before I can react, Voldemort counts to three. The four Death Eaters turn into werewolves and rip her apart._

_“GINNY!” I fall to my knees._

_Voldemort turns to me, that smile still on his face. “You can’t protect them all, Harry.”_

_He fires the Dark Mark into the air, the hissed incantation ‘morsmordre’ ringing in my ears, as he disappears in a swirl of robes and black smoke._

I sat up, the blood pounding in my ears, my entire body shaking. I looked to Ginny’s side of the bed and found it empty. “GINNY! GINNY!” I jumped out of the bed and ran around our small flat. “GINNY!” She was nowhere to be found. The only room I hadn’t looked into was the loo. I was just about to break the door down when she walked out.

I fell to my knees, just as I did in the dream, but wrapped my arms around her legs, resting my head on her pregnant belly. “Oh, Gin, you were… werewolves… Voldemort.”

She pulled me to my feet. We’d done this before. My nightmares are often about losing her, Hermione, Ron, Sirius, my parents… The list of the ones I should have saved is long. Sometimes, I relived deaths. Sometimes, I created new scenarios, like the werewolves. It doesn’t matter how the plot is packaged; the story ends the same way. I am powerless to save them. 

Ginny wrapped her arms around me and I dropped my head to her shoulder. She smelled like lilacs and laundry detergent. Her fingers ran through my hair as she held my shaking body. “How did I die tonight,” she whispered. I knew she didn’t want to know, but she’d get angry if I didn’t tell her. 

I took a few deep breaths and tried to calm down. She told me that I needed to talk about these things or I’d never be free of them. She didn’t understand that talking about them was as dangerous as leaving them locked into little boxes and stored deep in the recesses of my memory. “Let’s go to bed.” I grabbed her hand and pulled her to the bedroom. 

Once we settled back under the sheets, I rolled to my side and brushed the hair off her face. She was beautiful, she will always be to me, even though the stress of life with me had started to show. You didn’t need to be a genius to see the dark circles under her eyes, or the pinched expression on her face, to know that this relationship was slowly killing her. “You’re beautiful, Gin.”

“Don’t change the topic. How did I die tonight?”

“Werewolves tore you to pieces.”

Even in the sliver of moonlight that managed to slip through the tightly drawn curtains, I saw that her face was pale. “Werewolves.” For all that she had been through, werewolves still scared her more than the basilisk ever did. She rolled over and moved as far from me as possible. I knew she was crying. She always cried after one of my nightmares about her, but I didn’t know if it was because she was the one that died or if it was the stress of knowing she couldn’t stop the nightmares. 


	2. James

There’s always a defining moment in a relationship. That moment you know you will never recover from. The one that will always haunt you.

For us, that was Ginny’s miscarriage. 

As Ginny’s due date drew closer, we moved back to the Burrow. She had wanted to be close to her family, and I didn’t argue with her. I’d given in, despite not wanting to be anywhere near the rest of the Weasleys. We weren’t on the best terms… the number of empty chairs surrounding the dinner table caused by me strained my relationship with them. Fred’s seat remained empty, collecting dust, and it was all my fault. Molly, specifically, held me personally responsible. My presence was unwanted and if she could have convinced Ginny to divorce me, I would have gladly packed my things and left. However, Ginny’s choice to stay with me was read as she loved me more than her mother. Another fact that made everything worse. 

She’d woken me up with her screams and before I knew what was happening, her mother, father, Hermione, Ron and George were at our bedside. I sat up next to her and rubbed her back. “What is it, Gin? What’s wrong?”

She grabbed her swollen belly and doubled over. “It hurts,” she cried. “It hurts so bad.”

Molly, the lone female in the room to have ever been pregnant at that point, sat on the edge of the bed and tried to get Ginny to talk to her. At the same time, she was shouting at Hermione to get a Healer to the Burrow immediately. “Are you going into labour? Are you cramping?”

“Yes! Oh, Mum, it hurts so bad. Does it always hurt like this?” She sat up and slumped against me, breathing heavily. I could tell she was trying to do her breathing exercises like we had learned in the classes she insisted we take. “I need to go to hospital! Now!”

Molly had pushed me out of the way and focused on her daughter. Once more, I was an outsider. Now, I was the person that not only negatively affected the twins’ lives, I knocked up her daughter, causing her the intense physical pain she was currently in.

“Mum, I feel like I’ve wet myself.” I turned on the light, and threw the sheets off. We all gasped at the blood that was staining her nightshirt and the bed. She whimpered and looked at me. “I’m losing the baby. I’m losing James, Harry.”

We hadn’t talked about names after we found out we were having a boy. My eyes welled with tears at the thought of her naming our son James. I wrestled her away from Molly and held her tight while she sobbed and bled. I could tell the pain was getting worse by the grip she had on me and by the trouble she was having breathing. She pushed me away and lay flat on her back. She brought her heels to her arse and sat up in a crunch position. “It’s coming. The baby is coming,” she whispered before she screwed her face up and began to push. 

I moved behind her and held her up. I tried to help calm her down, but she screamed in pain. There was a brief distraction as the Healer ran into the room and lifted Ginny’s night shirt so she could clearly see what was going on. She made eye contact with me as Ginny bore down again, her body instinctively knowing what to do. I thought labour was supposed to last longer, but within a few minutes, Ginny sighed and fell against me. “I don’t want to see it.” She turned her head into my shoulder and I kissed the top of her head.

The Healer stood up and wrapped our baby in a towel Hermione had brought with her. “I’m so sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Potter. Your son…”

“SHUT UP! GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT!” She screamed, whipping a pillow at the Healer. 

The Healer was unfazed. This probably wasn’t her first time. She handed the towel, our son, James, to Molly and whispered something in her ear. Molly nodded and escorted everyone out of the room. “Mrs. Potter, I need to examine you now. I want to make sure there aren’t any other problems. You’re bleeding quite a bit.” 

“Fine.” I held Ginny to my chest and tried to whisper soothing things into her ears. I couldn’t watch the Healer stick her head between my wife’s legs and do a visual inspection. She whispered a cleaning spell and then something I’d never heard before. Ginny gasped in pain and I glared at the Healer. 

“Sorry, dear. I needed to take a good look in there. I know it’s tender. Labour is never easy on the body. The good news is that you’re perfectly fine. There’s no lasting damage.”

“You bitch.” Ginny was frighteningly calm. “How can you say I’m perfectly fine? There’s no lasting damage? I just gave birth to a dead child.” 

“I understand how you feel. I’ve lost two myself. I never said you were fine emotionally, and I don’t expect you to be. Physically, you’re fine and you’ll be able to conceive again in no time.” Ginny continued to glare at her. “Mr. Potter, may I speak to you for a moment? In private?”

Ginny waved me away. “I want you both out of here any way. Go.”

I looked at the Healer and shrugged. “You heard her.” I led the Healer to the Weasley’s small library and cast a silencing spell. 

“What did you want to talk about?”

“The baby was severely deformed. Even if it had made it to the end of her pregnancy, it…”

“My son.” I interrupted. 

“Yes, sorry. Your son wouldn’t have survived.” 

“What caused it?”

“I don’t know.” She couldn’t look me in the eye. “I cast diagnostic spells on both the… on your son and on your wife. Other than the deformity, there was nothing wrong with either one of them. They were both perfectly healthy.”

“You can stop. It’s my fault.”

“You can’t know that, Mr. Potter. Things like this happen and no one knows why.”

“I know exactly why this happened.” I thought for a moment, trying to tell her how I knew that it was me, and then decided that I didn’t want to have this conversation with a complete stranger. It was bad enough I could still speak Parseltongue… I didn’t want to know what else Voldemort had done to me when I was one of his horcruxes. “It’s me. I did this to her. I killed our son.”

“I hardly believe that’s true. May I use the spell on you?” I nodded; I didn’t want the confirmation of what I already knew, but I hoped she’d be wrong. The spell she used made me shiver. It felt unnatural, but what about this whole ordeal was natural? She looked up in alarm and tried to school her features back into a calm mask. “You-you-you-you’ll never be able to conceive a healthy baby, Mr. Potter,” she stammered nervously. “If you really want children, I would suggest a sperm donor or adoption.”

“A sperm donor?” My jaw hit the floor as my heart literally broke. “A sperm donor?”

“My test showed that your sperm is genetically mutated. There is no way that your sperm could fertilise an egg without serious consequences to both baby and mother. Miscarriages, while fairly common, can also have terrible side effects, including death. I lied in the bedroom because I didn’t want to alarm Mrs. Potter, but she was bleeding very severely and she would have died if I hadn’t gotten here when I did. I strongly suggest you think about alternate means of creating a family, Mr. Potter, but that’s a discussion I should not be involved in.”

I closed my eyes and swallowed hard. “I understand.” 

And I did. I understood perfectly: I was still a danger to Ginny. I would always be a danger to her.


	3. St. Mungo's

I heard the soft whispers and tried to open my eyes. When I did, I was shocked by the amount of Weasleys surrounding me. I tried to talk, but the words wouldn’t come. Ginny squeezed my hand. “You’re at St. Mungo’s, Harry. You tried to kill yourself.”

I remembered slitting my wrists and drinking several bottles of the Sleeping Draught I found in the loo. I had hoped the combination would be lethal, but if I had died, this certainly wasn’t my idea of Heaven. I tried to speak again, but nothing made it past my lips. She handed me a glass of water with a straw. I sucked some of the water in and tried again. “I didn’t succeed?”

The look on the Weasleys’ faces was identical: shock, disgust, and confusion blended together. It was Molly who spoke first. “No. You didn’t. Ginny found you in time.”

“Yeah, mate. You should be lucky she grew up with the twins. She’s always been a half-decent Healer.” I looked at Ron who was so deathly pale, his freckles practically glowed. Next to him, Hermione had his hand in a death grip. He was upset with me. Her, too. As if this were a personal attack on them instead of me looking for the peace I so rightly deserved. 

I bit my lip to hold back the angry tirade that threatened to bubble out. Ginny had no right to intervene. It was a selfish thing for her to do. More than that, all I wanted was to be left alone, but I was surrounded by them. Ginger hair and pale faces stared at me. It was too much. “Leave. Now. All of you.” 

Ginny dropped my hand, tears beginning to well up in her eyes. “You can’t mean that.”

“Get. Out.” I tried to roll over, but I was in some sort of magical restraints. It figured. Until I could be trusted not to hurt myself, I wasn’t going to be given any freedom. I looked at each Weasley in turn and then at the door. “I. Said. Get. Out.”

I closed my eyes and willed them away. With soft goodbyes, they began to file out. Gin, of course, was the last to leave. I opened my eyes so I could see the woman who was now the reason I was still stuck in this endless nightmare I called a life. “I’ll come back tomorrow during visiting hours. Just me. I’ll ask the rest to stay home. I tried to explain that it would be overwhelming for you.” She was babbling, tears running down her face. “I wanted to make everything better.” 

“Don’t come back, Gin. You managed to make everything worse and I don’t want to see you right now. I’ll send an owl or something.” 

“Harry…” 

“Leave.” I watched as she pulled herself together and walked out. I was still staring out the door when a shadow with blond hair caught my eye, but it disappeared as quickly as it appeared.

—————

It was late when the blond haired shadow knocked on the doorframe. “Hi, Potter,” he said poking his head in. I blinked in surprise. No. It couldn’t be. Could it? “Malfoy?” I groaned. “I did die and I’m in Hell. After all I did, this is how I get repaid for my sacrifices.”

He tilted his head and looked at me. “I’m not here to… whatever you think I’m going to do.” He sighed and I thought he looked a little bit lost. He didn’t look like the Malfoy I remembered at all. I wondered what happened to him since I saw him last. “I thought I would come and check on you since you kicked all the Weasels out.“ He looked at his feet. "I'm sorry things are so bad that you thought that was your only option." 

He danced gracefully around the topic, but I hadn't realised my suicide attempt was public knowledge. I tried to hide my shock and failed. “You know why I’m in here?”

He stared at the ceiling. “It was in the Prophet.”

“Of course it was.” I sighed, the darkness I’d been trying so hard to escape took up residence in my mind again; its weight a tangible presence on my shoulders. “I can’t fucking win, can I?” I sighed again. “You might as well come in.”

“May I?” He gestured at the chair Ginny had been sitting in. Without waiting for my response, he made himself comfortable. 

“Why are you here?”

“Mungo’s?”

“Yeah. Do you work here?” I looked at the water glass with longing. 

Malfoy picked up the glass and brought the straw to my lips. “Mother’s here. Cancer.”

I drank greedily. “Wizards can get cancer? Why isn’t there a potion or something to cure it? Muggles can’t cure it, but a Wizard could. Couldn’t one?” I’d never heard of Wizards with cancer, then again all the dead Wizards I knew had been murdered. Of course, I’d been too busy saving Wizards to pay attention to all the subtleties of the world we lived in. 

He ignored my question. Obviously, the Wizards hadn’t figured out how to cure it, either. ”She doesn’t have very long, so they’re keeping her comfortable until…” He cleared his throat. “I’ve been living here. I hardly leave her side.” He placed the empty glass back on the bedside table and looked around the room. “You didn’t eat your dinner.”

“Wasn’t hungry. Besides, it’s not like I can feed myself any way.” I looked at the tray near my feet, my stomach rumbling.

“Here.” He brought the tray between us and pulled the lid off the warming plate. “Chicken noodle soup and green jelly. Yum.” He covered the plate again and pushed the tray away.

I rolled my eyes. “I hate green jelly. It tastes… green.” I licked my parched lips. “The soup smells good, though.”

“Would you like me to feed you?”

I shook my head, unable to reconcile the Malfoy I used to know with the one offering to help me. “You can call a nurse.” 

“I don’t mind.”

I shook my head again. “You’ll probably poison me.”

He sighed. “So what if I did? You want to die. At least I can brew a potion that would make it painless.” 

“Why don’t you use it on your mother, then?”

I regretted saying that the moment it came out of my mouth. That was the lowest of low blows and he’d not done anything to deserve that. Malfoy looked like I punched him in the gut. He stood up abruptly. “Right then. That’s enough socialising for tonight. I’ll see you later.” 

I watched his back as he walked out of the room and turned left with almost military precision. All the air seemed sucked out of the room and I realised with absolute horror that his visit had made me feel a little better. He hadn’t asked any questions and he hadn’t laid a guilt trip. He was just… there. Despite our history, I found myself hoping that I would see him again.

—————

I was surprised when Malfoy came by the next day. “I’m sorry about yesterday. That was way out of line," I apologised before he could say anything.

“Don’t worry about it.” He shrugged and sat in the chair. “No Weasels today?”

I shook my head. “No. I don’t want to see any of them right now.”

I wasn’t expecting him to reach out and touch my wrist. He turned it this way and that inspecting the restraining spell. “These are weak spells holding you down. You must be pretty sedated.” 

"That would explain why I’ve been feeling so tired.” I sighed, upset that they felt the need to completely disable me. I decided to change the topic. “Thanks for sending the nurse by last night.”

“Can’t have the Saviour starving to death, can we?” He paled as soon as the words were out of his mouth. I had no idea he could turn any paler than he normally was. “Sorry.”

I smiled. “It’s OK. I’m glad you’re here.”

“Really?” His eyebrow quirked up. “Never thought I’d hear you say that.”

“I never thought I’d say it.” I laughed. “So far, you're the only person who hasn't asked me why. It's kind of nice."

“I don’t care why. I’m sure you had your reasons.” There didn’t seem to be anything more to say. He crossed his legs, resting his foot on the other knee and busied himself playing with the shoelaces on his trainers. It was then that I noticed what he was wearing. He was wearing jeans and trainers. Malfoy was wearing jeans. And trainers. Like a Muggle. I couldn’t wrap my head around it. Since when did he not wear those bespoke suits?

“Harry Potter! Here’s your dinner, love!” 

Malfoy jumped when the nurse walked into my room with my dinner. “I had no idea it was that late. Would you like me to leave?”

“No. Stay.” I struggled to sit up. He helped me up and then fluffed the pillow behind me to support my back. “Thanks,” I said softly, not really wanting to draw to much attention to the nice gesture, but wanting him to know I appreciated it. He nodded in response, but said nothing else.

“Draco, will you be eating in here tonight?” The old nurse smiled at Malfoy. He had been here a while. I wondered how long. I was going to ask him, but thought better of it.

He looked at me. I nodded. A little too eagerly. “I guess so, Anna. Thanks.”

She walked over to him and squeezed his shoulder. “I’ll be back with a tray for you, dear.” She paused a moment and looked at the two of us, no doubt thinking what I was: how was it possible that The Chosen One and a Death Eater were in the same room and not trying to kill each other? 

I waited until she was out of earshot. "I appreciate the company, but why are you here? It's a little weird, don't you think?"

“You’re a familiar face,” he said as if that explained it all. “You haven’t said any of the stupid things a lot of people say when they find out Mother’s dying.” He shrugged again. “We’re counting in days now. Maybe tomorrow it will be hours. I don’t know.” 

“It sucks that your mum’s dying.” I paused, unsure of what to say next. 

“Thanks for your honesty.” Anna set his dinner in front of him. He thanked her and once she was gone, he turned his attention back to me. “Want me to remove those spells for you?” 

I looked down at my hands. “If you can. Please.” 

With a smirk, he cast the spell to remove the restraints. “Eat up, Potter.”

I rubbed my wrists. It felt good to have my hands back. “I don’t know why they felt that they needed to do that. It’s not like I’m stupid enough to try it again. Especially in hospital for Christ’s sake.” 

“How long are you here for?” He pulled the lids off of our dinners - shepherd’s pie. For dessert, I had green jelly again; he had red. 

“I suppose I’m stuck here until I can prove I don’t want to off myself again. I don’t know how keeping me restrained and sedated is supposed to cure me, though. All it’s doing is pissing me off.”

He tucked into his pie and ate it with gusto. “This is really good for hospital food. Most of it’s inedible rubbish, just like the green jelly,” he said as he swapped our jellies, a smile on his face.

—————

The next night Anna, the nurse, showed up with two dinners, but I was alone. “Anna? He’s not here. I’m sure he’s with his mum.” 

“No, I’m not. I’m right here, Potter. You can’t get away from me that easily.” He followed Anna into the room and flopped into the chair. At my confused look, he smiled. “Mother’s sleeping and I hate eating alone.” 

“Alright, then. Bon appetite.” I opened my meal with a flourish. “Fucking green jelly!” I slammed the lid back down.

Malfoy laughed. It was nice and rich. I didn’t recall him ever laughing like that when we were in Hogwarts. It was a nice sound. “Here.” He pushed his red jelly over to me. “You can have mine.” 

—————

The fourth night, Malfoy showed up with The Daily Prophet. I had the wireless on and as we ate, Malfoy read bits and pieces of the articles to me. It was cosy and comforting; a bit of normalcy we both craved. I was still under observation and his mother’s life was still being counted in days. Eating dinner together, sharing the paper, it made our day a little less lonely.

Malfoy put the paper down and stared at me for a while. I was starting to get uncomfortable and about to say something when he opened his mouth. "Have you seen a Mind-Healer yet?"

"No. I was told that he'd be by to see me this week, but it's Saturday and he hasn’t been by yet.”

"A Mind-Healer would be able to recommend they remove the restraints, so I don't have to every night." He smirked, an eyebrow perfectly arched. "Although, I must say that I quite enjoy tying you back up before I leave."

"You would." I smiled at him. 

Before we could continue our conversation, the Mind-Healer walked in. He did a double take when he saw Malfoy. "How did you get in here? And remove the restraints? This room is warded against non-family members and their magic.”

That was interesting. How was it so easy for Malfoy to get in and free me? I was about to accuse Malfoy of using Dark Magic to get to me, but then I realised I’d made it possible. “I invited him in and asked him to release my hands so that I could feed myself. He's done no harm and I like him being here." I shrugged. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

The Mind-Healer stuttered. "I'm going to recommend you stay for another week. Once a day, we'll meet for a therapy session and use that to decide if you're healthy enough to return home."

"Will you at least remove the restraints? I'd like to be able to take a piss without a witness."

The Mind-Healer turned a bright red, and I almost felt bad for him. Almost. He turned and fled out of the room. Malfoy looked at me and shrugged. "I'll leave the restraints off tonight, although I'm a bit upset that you haven't invited me into the loo with you." 

—————

The fifth night, Malfoy stopped by with an armful of books. I jumped out of bed and helped him carry them in. "You're out of bed."

"I spent an hour lying to the Mind-Healer. He decided that I was no longer going to harm myself and that I should be free to move about the hospital if I wanted to."

"You lied? To a Mind-Healer?" He sat in his chair and watched as I crawled back onto my bed.

"He didn't want to hear the real answers." I shrugged. "I told him what I thought would get me out of here."

"Oh." He was quiet for a moment. "I saw Anna in the hallway. She's got what's supposed to be fish and chips tonight. I told her you really loved green jelly, so she was going to get you an extra helping."

"Twat." I laughed. 

He laughed with me, brushing fine strands of pale blond hair out of his eyes. "Potter." He said it softly, looking far more lost than he had yet. He sighed, shaking his head. "Potter," he began again. "Never mind. It's not important."

That was bullshit and we both knew it. I decided not to press the issue. If he wanted to discuss whatever it was, he would. We'd fallen into a comfortable rhythm, but it still felt to me that our friendship was fragile. An unspoken truce had been reached, but for how long? "I'm definitely here for another week. They'll let me go on Sunday if they've seen progress."

"Oh. Sunday. That’s, um, that’s good. For you.”

“Malfoy? You OK?”

“No.” He got up and started to pace around the room. “I’m not OK at all. Not even close.” 

He stayed in my room longer than usual that night, but neither of us felt like making conversation after his last statement. Before he left, he tucked me in tightly, the way I imagined his mother used to. He smoothed the hair back from my forehead and stared at the scar that had defined me my entire life. He shook his head and walked out of the room without saying goodnight. 

—————

Despite finally having freedom, I chose to stay in my room every day, reading, and waiting for Malfoy to show up for dinner. It was my favourite part of the day, even though I wasn’t quite sure how things had managed to change so drastically between us so quickly.

On Wednesday, there was a knock on the door. I put my book down and looked to see who it was. “Harry?” Ginny poked her head in. “Are you still angry with me?”

I sighed. Yeah, I was, but admitting that wasn’t going to help me get out of here. “No. Thanks for stopping by.”

“I had some free time, so I thought, maybe, we could eat lunch together?” 

“If you really want to. Don’t feel like you have to spend time with me.”

She sat in the chair - in Malfoy’s chair - and looked expectantly at me. “I am your wife. At least, I was the last I checked. Spending time with you is part of the package.”

I sighed again. I wanted her gone before I said something I’d regret. “It’s fine. Knock yourself out.”

“The nurses say you’re doing really well. You’ve even made a friend?” There was so much hope in her voice that I might come out of this OK, that I didn’t want to tell her who it was. Thankfully, the nurses hadn’t, either.

“Yeah.” She handed me what I think was supposed to be mac and cheese, but was more like a disgusting pasta mess with yellow goo all over it. As I ate, she helped herself to my jelly. My _red_ jelly. Rage filled me and I could feel my magic building. The water glass on the bedside table shattered, making Gin jump. So much for not being able to perform magic in my room. I supposed I should be lucky that the worst thing that happened to me was Malfoy. And, honestly? That wasn’t nearly as bad as it could have been.

“Harry!” Her face was pale. “Did you do that?”

I shook my head angrily. Of course I did, but she didn’t want to hear that. It would only be proof of how screwed up I still was. “No. Cheap hospital glasses. They break easily.” 

She glared at me, well aware of the lie. “Are you ready to come home yet?”

“Am I ready? You ask like I’ve been on holiday here or something. Of course I’m ready to come home.” 

“You’re not acting like it.” She finished eating the jelly and set the spoon down a little harder than was required. “I’ll talk to the Healers and find out when I can bring you home.”

I decided to take a nap after she left, but just as I had begun to fall asleep, I was woken up by a familiar voice. “Things not go well with the Weaselette?” Malfoy slid into his chair, and I noticed he looked a little green. My heart sank. There was only one reason he’d look like that. 

“She ate my jelly.” I pouted, feeling like a spoilt child. “It was red.” Malfoy laughed and I felt the corner of my mouth lift up. I liked that I could make him laugh, even now. 

It was short-lived. He grew serious again. His eyes closed and he took a deep breath. “Hours. We’re counting in hours.” He fidgeted in the chair. “I should really go back to her. I just wanted to let you know why I wasn’t going to be round for dinner.” 

He had a limited amount of time left with his mother, yet he made the decision to come here and tell me he was going to miss dinner. He could have sent the message with Anna or any other nurse. I was shocked by what that meant. “Do you want me to come with you?” 

“No. Maybe. Yes. No.” He shook his head. “No.”

I hadn’t yet asked where his father was, but I had the feeling he was not at Mungo’s. I’d lost track of the Malfoy family, if I were to be completely honest. As far as I knew, after the war, they’d gone back to Wiltshire and disappeared back into their privileged lives. “If you need me, you know where to find me.”

He nodded gravely. “I know.” He stood up and absentmindedly tucked me in. He looked at me for several moments before pulling himself together. “I need to go.”

—————

The door to my room opened and then closed. I snapped awake instantly, reaching for a wand that wasn’t there. Who would come into my room in the middle of the night without knocking? Even the Healers knocked. In the moonlight, I could see my visitor perfectly. Malfoy looked terrible. He didn’t need to say anything; it was written all over his face. “Harry…” His voice was thick with tears.

I moved over on my bed, thankful that I had a private room. “Come here.” 

He got up on the bed and stretched out next to me. The next thing I knew, he had buried his face in my neck and began to sob. I held him tight while he got it out of his system. I couldn’t imagine what it felt like to be so alone in the world that your best option was to cry on your enemy’s shoulder. He calmed down, all cried out, and pulled back. “I’m sorry. I crossed a line. I shouldn’t be in bed with you.” 

“Shut up, Draco.” I pulled him tight against me again. “Go to sleep. We’ll deal with this in the morning.” 


	4. People Will Talk

“Packing, Potter?”

I whipped around at the sound of his voice. I hadn't expected him to come back after we woke up together and he said goodbye. I hadn’t seen him at all yesterday, but it wasn't like he had a reason to be at Mungo's any more. “No. I’m running a marathon.” I couldn’t believe how happy I was to see him. I’d actually missed eating dinner with him last night.

He smirked in response. “You’ve been sprung, huh? I thought you weren’t leaving until Sunday.” He stood in the doorway and watched me try to fold a pair of pyjamas. “God, you’re killing them. Give them to me.” He crossed the room in a few strides and pulled them out of my hands. 

“Well, I guess after lunch Wednesday, Ginny told the Healers I wasn’t staying here any longer. It took a day or so to convince them that my being here wasn’t making the situation any better.”

“When’s the Weaselette coming to get you?” He folded them quickly and neatly. I was a little jealous of how easy he made it seem. Then again, he had grown up with clothes that deserved to be cared for. I had grown up with Dudley’s rags.

“Few hours.” I sat on the bed. “When are you leaving?”

“When you do. No other reason to hang around.” He shrugged. “OH!” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “This is for you.”

I took it from him and opened it. “Oh. That.” It was the article about my suicide attempt. “Why would you give this to me?”

“I thought you might want to read it.” He joined me on the bed. “I know how much you like to read your press.” He bumped my shoulder with his, a small smile on his face. “Read it. Or don’t.”

“Do I want to know what it says?”

“Probably not. It’s the Prophet’s patented blend of arse-kissing and hero-worship.” His smile got larger. “Sorry. I forgot who I was talking to.” 

I laughed. “Oh, fuck it. It can’t be worse than what I already think it says.”

Malfoy pushed past me and lay on his back. “Read it. Out loud.”

“You mean you don’t have it memorised?”

“Only the good bits.” 

I looked down at him, amazed by how happy he could seem so soon after losing his mother. Then it dawned on me that I was happy too. It must have been contagious. I cleared my throat. “‘Harry Potter: The Boy Who Tried to Die.’” I rolled my eyes. “I’ve already died once. Obviously they haven’t done their research or they would have titled the article, ‘The Boy Who Tried to Die a Second Time.’”

“What?” Malfoy’s eyebrows disappeared into his fringe. I always forgot that the fact that I was a horcrux, and that I really did die, wasn’t common knowledge. Only a few people knew my secret; people I knew I could trust. We’d been able to keep it a secret for years… and now… now I was going to tell the last person who should know. The one person with the best reason to use it against me.

“Horcrux. Died. Came back. Killed Voldemort.” I pulled my glasses off and wiped them clean with the sleeve of my jumper. After I set them back on my nose, I waited for him to say something. When he didn’t, I returned to reading the article. “‘The Prophet has been made aware of the fact that Harry Potter, The Saviour of the Wizarding World has attempted suicide.’ What total, absolute, rubbish. Who wrote this?” I looked at the byline. “I don’t know who Nicole Borden is. They should have let Skeeter write it. At least she has a way with words.” I skimmed the article, sighing as I realised who the source was. “Percy’s their source. That dirty bastard.” I crumpled up the article. “I can’t read this.” 

Malfoy sat up, concern written all over his face. “I’m sorry, Potter. If I had known a Weasley…” 

I threw the article into the bin. “You didn’t know.” 

“I know you're sick of being asked, but why’d you do it?” 

“Honestly? Because I wanted to.” I shoved a pair of socks into the suitcase and followed them with jeans. “Why does anybody do anything?” 

“You have to be pretty fucked up to want to end it. That’s all.” He came over to me and pulled a t-shirt out of my hands. “Stop packing and talk to me.”

I went back to the bed and sat on it. “I am pretty fucked up. The Mind-Healer says I have a lot of Survivor’s Guilt, which I guess makes sense. I mean, I think about all the people I couldn’t save, like my parents, Sirius, Fred, Remus, Tonks…” I took a deep breath and continued. “I’ve also lost interest in all my relationships, including the one with my wife. I never talk to Ron, I barely talk to Hermione, I’ve pushed the rest of the Weasleys away, and right now, I really hate my wife. Like really hate her.” I closed my eyes. “Do you understand how bad that is? It doesn’t help that everyone always looks to me to have the answers. To teach the Army, lead the Wars. I’m tired, Malfoy, and I’m tired of feeling alone. And I do. All the time. Even now. You’re here with me, and I feel so alone, like you don’t even exist. Can you imagine what that feels like? I want it to be over. This is no way to live." 

He cocked his head, but didn’t say anything. I think he realised he was the only person I'd told the truth to. I hadn’t meant to tell him, but it was so easy to talk to him. No one else in my life would have taken it as well as he appeared to. Finally, he blew out the breath he’d been holding. “You’re going to feel this way until you die one way or another. Aren’t you?”

“I think so.” I fell back onto the bed. “I don’t know any more. I know the answer that gets me out of here, and saves my marriage, but I think I’d be lying if I said it.” I rolled onto my belly and buried my head under the pillow. “You must think I’m stupid.”

“I have The Mark on my arm. That makes me more stupid than you. At least you fought for the winning side.”

“I WAS the winning side,” I growled. 

I felt the bed shift as he came and sat next to me. I heard him whisper spells to close the door and lock it. I wondered what he was up to and then I felt his body press up to mine. “I apologise if I’m crossing a line again.” His hand settled on the small of my back and his thumb moved back and forth. 

“Not crossing,” I mumbled into the mattress. “S’OK.” 

"I'm in your bed again. People will talk."

"People always do. I'm used to it. At least now, they have something new to talk about.” I turned my head to face him. “Why are you here? I thought you’d be gone by now.”

“It’s taken me longer to pack up Mother’s things than I thought it would.”

"I would have helped. You shouldn't have done that alone."

"It... It was fine. I'm fine." The look in his eyes said he wasn't. Maybe he could have fooled others, but he couldn’t fool me. Not anymore. 

I rolled over so that I was on my side, facing him. His hand slid to my hip when I had rolled over, and I placed my hand on the same spot of his body. "There's a programme on the telly that the Muggles watch called 'Doctor Who', and in one of the episodes, the Doctor says that there are a bunch of things you need to get across the universe, but most of all, what you need is a hand to hold. I’ll gladly hold your hand any time. Even if means having you in my bed.” I smiled, the role of the Hero, the Saviour, coming too easily still. As much as I hated the idea of the Wizarding World expecting me to continually fulfil that role, I didn’t mind coming to Malfoy’s rescue. It was painfully obvious he was all alone in the world and I knew that feeling a little too well.

A tear ran down his cheek. "Thank you... Harry."

I wiggled closer to him and tightened my arm around his waist. I burrowed my face into the crook of his neck. “I don’t want to kill myself as much when you’re here,” I whispered into his skin.

In response, he ran his fingers through my hair and massaged my skull. "Good. The world would be a pretty boring place without you."


	5. Funeral

“I don’t understand why you feel you have to go,” Ginny pouted as she packed her Quidditch kit into her bag. “It’s not like you two are friends.”

She still didn’t know he was the friend I made at Mungo’s and I certainly wasn’t going to tell her. “I need to pay my respects to Mrs. Malfoy. She helped us win the war, you know. If she hadn’t lied to Voldemort in the forest…”

Ginny rolled her eyes, but changed the topic. “I was going to go out to dinner with the girls for our usual post-practice drinks. Will you be home when I get back?”

“I don’t know. I may find a hotel in Wiltshire. I’m not sure I’m up to travelling that far.” I hadn’t really enjoyed travelling since the War, preferring instead to stay in the house and avoid the world at all costs, but I would not leave Malfoy alone at his mother's funeral. I. Would. Not.

“If you’re not up to travel, why are you going at all?” She slung her bag over her shoulder. “It’s fucking Malfoy, Harry. I don’t understand why this is so important to you.”

“Because it is. Go to practice. I’ll see you later.” I watched her walk out of the house, wondering not for the first time if this was going to be the last time. We’d been fighting a lot since I got home from Mungo’s. If we hadn’t been fighting over Narcissa’s funeral today, there would have been something else. We couldn’t find a common ground any more, and sometimes, I wondered if we ever had one to begin with. I wanted to leave her, but I had no idea how. I kept hoping she’d leave, but she seemed determined to save our marriage, which only made me resent her more. It was a never ending cycle.

—————

I stood on the edge of the small group gathered around the casket and I could see Malfoy clearly from where I stood. His aunt Andromeda, who I knew a little bit from the Order, had her arm around his shoulders. She was crying. He was stoic. I wondered what was going on in his head. Surprisingly, I found myself wanting to stand by his side, offering him the sort of comfort Andromeda was. 

The officiant asked for people to share memories of Narcissa before we said our final goodbyes. Nobody moved forward to say anything. I couldn’t just stand there, but as much as I didn’t want to draw attention to myself, I wanted more for Malfoy to hear what she meant to me. I walked slowly to the officiant’s side, the crowd parting easily. I cleared my throat and looked at Malfoy. “While the Malfoy family and I weren’t on the best terms, it was obvious that they had a lot of love for each other. During the War, when Voldemort and I fought the first time, in the forest, I fell. She offered to see if I was dead or not, and the first thing, the only thing, she said to me…” I swallowed, fighting back my own emotions at the memory. “She wanted to know if Draco was OK. I said yes, and she told Voldemort that I was dead. She could have done so many things… but all she cared about was whether or not her son was alive, and she risked her own life to lie to Voldemort and tell him I was dead.” 

I took my glasses off and swiped at my cheek. “I can never repay her for that. She was an amazing woman and I really wish I could have thanked her properly. If it wasn’t for her, we probably wouldn’t have won the War.” I turned to look at Malfoy. “I’m sorry you had to lose your Mum. I know how terrible that feels, and I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.” The crowd laughed nervously. I hadn’t meant for it to come out that way. I grimaced, but I caught his slight smile. “Any way… um, that’s all I have to say.” I stepped back into the crowd and hoped the rest of the ceremony would go quickly. 

After the burial, the photographer from the Prophet shouted for me. I rolled my eyes and walked over to him. He’d already corralled Malfoy, who looked about as thrilled as I felt. “It’s so great to see you two together. It’s just more proof of the healing Wizarding Society has experienced since the War. Can I get a picture of you two shaking hands?”

I looked at the blond. He shrugged and extended his hand. I shook it. The photographer took his picture and left. Malfoy took half a step towards me. “Can you stay until everybody’s left” he whispered. I nodded. I could and I would. “Meet me in the garden. There’s a small bench under a weeping willow. Go there. No one will see you.” 

I shook his hand again before looking around and hugging him. “I’ll wait.” He nodded solemnly and began to walk back towards the few people still milling around. I headed towards the garden and the weeping willow. Once I got there, I sat down. I didn’t know how long it would take him to get free of the rest of the well-wishers, but I’d sit there as long as I had to. 

I didn’t have to wait long. “Everybody’s heading to the Leaky. I told Andromeda that I didn’t feel up for socialising, so she said she’d check on me later. You don’t want to go to the Leaky, do you?”

“No. I’ve had enough of people for the day.”

“Fair enough. The house is kind of messy. I can’t get the house elves to do much right now because they have their own rituals when a Master or Mistress dies, and I haven’t really felt like keeping the house clean, either.” He sat down next to me and hung his head. “I held… her… hand. When… she… died. It… I could feel when she… she let go.” He had a hard time getting the words out. We hadn’t spoken about Narcissa at all at Mungo’s. I hadn’t wanted to push him. “What am I going to do, Potter?”

I wrapped my arm around him and pulled him tight. He rested his head on my shoulder for a moment. He turned and buried his face in the crook of my neck. I could feel his tears soaking my neck, and felt the silent sobs wrack his body. I didn’t know what I could do for him, except sit there. “You’ll go on living. You’ll meet someone, get married, raise a family of your own, and tell them all about how wonderful Grandmother Malfoy was.”

“I don’t want to go on living. I don’t know how you do it. Day in and day out. Knowing you’re all alone.” He pulled away from me and looked me in the eyes. I wondered if my eyes looked so haunted and empty. It was frightening. 

“It’s hard. Really hard. Why do you think I wound up in Mungo’s?”

He stood up suddenly. “I want to go to bed.” He pulled me up and looked at me. “Come with me?”

“Um, yeah, sure.” I didn’t know what to think. Instead of asking questions, I followed him to his bedroom. Unlike the rest of the rooms in the Manor I'd seen so far, this was was actually warm. Lived in. Of course, everything was Slytherin green and silver, but it was tasteful. I stood, staring at his bed. “Now what?”

“Now we get into bed.” I watched him kick his shoes off and pull off his dress robe. Underneath, he wore a simple black suit like the ones he used to wear at Hogwarts the last few years. He was wan, the suit hanging off of him. He removed the jacket, left the rest of his clothes on, and lay on top of the covers. I crawled onto the bed next to him, feeling underdressed in my nice khakis and jumper. He rolled towards me, laying his head on my chest. “I get it. I understand how you can feel so alone even when there’s someone with you.”

What was I supposed to say? “I’m glad someone does.” I wrapped my arm around him. “I meant it. I wish I had gotten to thank your mum for lying to Voldemort.”

“She knew about us. About all the time we spent together at Mungo’s.” He sniffled and pulled back a bit so he could look at me. “I used to read the paper to her and when I read about… you… she told me to find you. She said that you were a good person and that you’d help me survive losing her. She knew you’d take care of me. When I asked her how she knew that, she smiled and said I’d see.” 

I thought about that for a while. We had hated each other at Hogwarts. The fact that he came to my room, and kept coming, was odd. Stranger still was the fact that it was so easy to be with him. If I’d known it was this nice to be his friend, maybe I wouldn’t have almost killed him. I made a mental note to apologise for that at a later time. I shook my head and tried to focus on what he’d just said. “I’m not sure I can live up to that expectation. I can barely take care of myself.”

He sighed and rolled on to his side, his back facing me. I spooned him, arm wrapped tight around his waist, my body fit into the curves of his, and took a deep breath. He smelt of apples. I liked it. My last thought before I lost consciousness was how nice this was.

————

We had separated at some point; he was curled up in a tight ball on the far side of the bed and I had been sprawled out on my back, limbs everywhere. I looked at his back and remembered what it felt like to wake up with him in my bed at Mungo’s. It was a nice feeling; it was a shame this would be the last time. I didn’t have any more reasons to spend time with him. I wish I did, but it was time we went back to our lives. 

He rolled over and opened his eyes. “Have you been awake long?”

“No. I just woke up.” I reached out and brushed his fringe out of his eyes. “You look like you haven’t eaten in days. Are you hungry?”

“Not really.” He moved towards me and wrapped his arm around my waist. “Stay here a little longer? I don’t want to be alone.”

I looked at the clock on the wall. It was still early. “Yeah. I can stay, but you have to promise me you’ll eat.”

He thought this over. “Do you know how to make a bacon sandwich?”

I laughed. “Of course! Do you want me to make one for you?”

“Later.” He snuggled against me. “I need this more than I need food.”

I couldn’t argue with that. I liked being held, too, when life went to shit. Too bad my wife didn’t understand that. “OK, but you’re eating before I leave.”

“Promise.” He ducked his head under my chin and took a few deep breaths. I could tell he was trying to calm himself down, but the tears were close. He began to cry again. I held him tighter and wished the pain away, even though I knew it wasn’t possible. He was going to have to fight his way through it and maybe he’d come out the other side all right. Or he’d wind up in Mungo’s… or next to his mother. The thought chilled me to the bone. He had to bounce back from this. He just had to.

—————

It was after lunch time before I could finally get him out of bed. It was another hour before I could convince him that I could cook, and then it was another half hour before the bacon sarnies were ready. I set the plate down in front of him. “Bon appetite, Malfoy.”

He looked down at the plate and then back to me. “Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you right now.” 

I placed my hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “You’re just saying that. You’ll figure it out. I promise.”

“I don’t miss Father, you know, and he’s been dead for ages.”

“I didn’t know he passed.”

“Yeah. I don’t like talking about it.” He shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. “Mother… Mother was my best friend. Through all of it, she never stopped loving me. She never called me a disappointment. She even tried to talk me out of getting the Mark. She was a good woman, a brilliant mother, and my best friend. Now she’s gone. It’s not fair. Magic can cure everything Muggles can get, Potter. Everything. The only way Wizards can die is either from magic or old age. There really isn’t any in-between. So why couldn’t they cure her cancer?”

I didn’t have an answer for that. I knew my eyesight couldn’t be fixed by magic; Hermione had said as much when she fixed my glasses for the umpteenth time at Hogwarts. “I’m not sure what magic can and can’t cure. It seems kind of random at times.”

“Well, at least magic’s consistent in one way. There’s no coming back from Avada Kedavra.” He barked out a laugh. “That’s a good thing. He would have been really angry if I’d missed. I probably wouldn’t gotten a second chance to cast it.” 

My blood ran cold. “Did you…” I couldn’t finish my sentence. I didn’t want to believe that Malfoy could kill his own father. 

He nodded once. “I said I don’t want to talk about it.” He turned back to his sandwiches and didn’t speak again. Not even when I left.


	6. Hermione

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I'm not JKR and I have absolutely nothing to do with the amazing world of Harry Potter except for my twisted ideas of what the characters get up to in their spare time.

“Where’s Ginny?” Hermione lowered herself onto the couch. She was pregnant again, and absolutely massive.

“Practice.” She was spending a lot of time at the Quidditch pitch lately. I didn’t mind as much as I probably should have. “She’s trying out some new feints and stuff she’s seen other teams do.” Things that I could have easily taught her, had I wanted to spend any time with her.

“Why don’t you practice with her? It would be good for you to get out. Leave the house for a bit. Fly. You used to love flying.”

I flopped into the arm chair across from the couch. “I don’t want to.”

“Harry, you’ve been a complete hermit ever since they released you from hospital two months ago. More than usual, even. What’s wrong?”

I leaned over, rested my elbows on my knees and buried my head in my hands. I didn’t know how to tell her. “I’m not OK, Hermione.” I didn’t want to tell her that I was still trying to figure out when and how I could attempt to kill myself next. Whenever, however, I did it, I had to do it when there was no hope of Ginny finding me again.

“You seemed OK in hospital when I saw you last.” 

"When did you see me? I don't remember you visiting me."

"I went by after work one night. You and Draco were playing chess." 

“You could have come in. I mean, you travelled all that way to see me. It was just Malfoy.”

She shrugged. "You looked happy. I didn't want to bother you. You haven’t been happy in a long time.” She was right. Malfoy made me happy, as odd as that sounded. "Have you spoken to him recently?”

“Not since the funeral.” Ginny thought I had spent the night at a hotel. I wasn’t going to tell her that I spent the night at the Manor, curled around Malfoy as he slept. I wasn’t going to tell anyone. It was bad enough that she saw the picture of us in the Prophet. We’d kept our distance from each other since, but I missed him. I missed him a lot.

“Maybe you should owl him,” she said softly. “In your weird way, you two were practically inseparable at Hogwarts. Whatever caused you to to run into each other at Mungo’s probably happened for a reason. You looked really happy when you were playing chess. You never look happy when you play Ron.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell her that playing chess with her husband reminded me of the sacrifice he’d made our first year, playing that life-or-death game of Wizard’s Chess. “I don’t really like chess,” I lied. “Malfoy was letting me win.”

“I doubt that.” She sighed and rubbed her belly. “This one kicks all the bloody time. It’s maddening.” 

“I do miss him. We spent every day together.” I finally admitted, ignoring her comment. Her pregnancy made me angry. It should have Ginny sitting there complaining about the baby kicking. Our baby. But that was never going to happen. “I wonder how he’s doing.” 

“Owl him.” There would be no arguing with her, so I nodded my assent. “How’s everything else?”

“Quiet. Cold.” I wasn’t talking about the weather. 

She clucked her tongue at me. “You two are just going through a rough patch. It will pass.” 

“I hope so because her freezing me out isn’t helping my mood any.” I took my glasses off and rubbed my face with my hand. 

She rubbed her belly again, a thoughtful look on her face. “Ginny told me you two are thinking about trying again.”

I bit my tongue. She could think all she wanted about trying again, but there was no way I was going to be the one to make it happen. As it was, she still had no idea that I was the reason James had died. It was a weight I carried with me every day. “I still can’t… perform… so I don’t know how she expects to be… expecting.” 

“Issues with intimacy, mental and physical, are easily treated by Muggle medicine and the Wizarding World might have a few similar options. All hope isn’t lost.”

“So, I’m supposed to pop a pill, get a stiffy, bone the wife and hope the hell I knock her up?”

“Well, I wouldn’t put it that way, but if you’re having trouble getting an erection…”

I got up and paced in front of the window. This was not a conversation I wanted to have with her. Ever. “I don’t want to talk about this,” I growled. “Besides, it’s not really any of your business.”

“You’re right. It’s not. I just want to help.” 

I closed my eyes and counted to ten. “I know you do, but you can’t help us with this.” 

“Maybe you two need to take a break from each other.” The words were whispered, as if she didn’t want me to hear her. 

I fell back into the arm chair. “Maybe we do.” I ran my fingers through my hair as I thought about what to say. How could I tell her that I hated Ginny so much that there were days I hoped she wouldn't come back from practice? I decided to only tell her half of the truth. “All I know for sure is that I was happy, in hospital, when I was hanging out with Malfoy.”

“How did that even happen?”

“Me and Malfoy? I dunno.” I shrugged. “I was a familiar face.” I pulled my feet up onto the chair and rested my chin on my knees. “It happened and it was nice while it lasted. It’s over. I’m over it.”

“Except you aren’t.” She struggled to stand up. I ran over and helped her. “I need to get back, but you should owl him, Harry. I’m sure he’ll talk to you.”


	7. Hand to Hold

“She left me,” I fell against Malfoy’s doorframe, drunk as hell, but not drunk enough for it to stop hurting. I wasn’t sure there was enough alcohol in the world to get me that drunk.

“Christ, Potter, you’re completely pissed.” He moved to my side and wrapped an arm around me. He half dragged, half carried me into the Manor. He deposited me on his couch and disappeared. When he came back, he had a glass of water and a potion. “Here, drink these.” 

I read the label on the potion. “I don’t want to sober up. I want to die. You can drink yourself to death, right?”

“You’re going to sober up, you’re going to talk to me, and then… well… I don’t know.” He sat next to me on the couch.

“I killed our baby,” I blurted out. It was the first time I had said anything about it to anyone. It was like he was the only one who could absolve me of that particular sin. “His name was James. Like my Dad. We even buried him next to my parents. I killed him. It was all my fault. Every one I love dies.”

“Then it’s a good thing you don’t love me,” he joked. He handed me the water. “At least drink the water. Please.” I drank it in one swallow and looked at him expectantly. “If you’re not going to take the sobering potion, then you need to go and sleep this off.” He looked at me for a long moment. “The guest rooms haven’t been used since…” He cleared his throat. “Come on. You’re sleeping in my room. With me.”

“I don't know what to do, Malfoy.” I burped, tasting vomit. “Tell me what I should do.” 

The faintest of smiles turned up the corners of his mouth. "OK. Let's start with... You're going to go to the bathroom and puke so you don't do it in my bed."

I thought about that for a minute and then nodded. I burped up vomit again and hoped I could make it. “Yeah, that's probably a good idea." I let him walk me to the bathroom, where I fell next to the toilet. He perched on the side of the tub, watching me. "You don't need to stay here. I know how... how..."

That was as far as I got before I bent over the toilet and puked up everything I had drank. He was by my side, offering me more water and rubbing my back. I took my glasses off and handed them to him before turning back to the toilet. "Still not interested in the sobering potion,” he asked. 

I shook my head and instantly regretted it. "I deserve this. She wouldn't have left if I..."

"Bloody hell, Potter! You don't deserve about ninety nine percent of what's happened to you. I'm done with this conversation. Drink the damn sobering potion, brush your teeth, and come to bed."

I took the potion and drank it. It must have been his own recipe; I'd never had anything that fast acting. I took a toothbrush from him and brushed my teeth. Once I was minty fresh, I turned to look at him. "Thanks. I think I'm OK. I should probably go home." Despite promising Hermione I'd owl him, I hadn't had any contact with him since the funeral. For several months I'd been stuck in this limbo of trying to make my marriage work while wanting desperately to leave. To run to him. Ginny had finally grown tired of it and walked out. Without her, my life felt empty and meaningless… almost the same as when she was there. I had gotten pissed three days in a row before I finally apparated to the Manor. I didn't belong here. I shouldn't be here. I wanted to be here. I needed to be here.

"You're going to spend the night." His tone said that there would be no arguing with him. Not that I was going to. I had been craving sleeping in his arms since the last time I woke up with him. "I'm sure I have something you can sleep in."

I followed him up to his room. "Don't feel like you have to do this. The potion worked. I'm fine."

"Oh, Potter, don’t lie. I know you’re not fine.” He sighed and took my hand. "Sometimes, you need a hand to hold." He dropped my hand and I noticed a blush colouring his cheeks.

He walked to his dresser and pulled out some pyjamas. "These'll fit you." I nodded and got changed in record time. "Get into bed. The far side's mine." I got into the bed on the side closest to us. I wasn't sure what to say or do, so I rolled over. My back was facing him and he fit himself into my curves, wrapping his arms around me. I relaxed into him. “I’m sorry about Ginny."

"You didn't do anything." I sighed. I hated when people apologised for things they didn’t do.

"Tell me what happened?"

"I was born at the end of July. That's what happened. If I had been born August first, there never would have been a stupid prophecy, I wouldn't have been a fucking horcrux... I wouldn't think about killing myself. All. The. Time."

"Roll over and look at me." I did as I was told. "Listen, a lot of terrible things happened to you, but you're the bloody Boy Who Lived. There's a reason for that. You're a good person." 

"I'm not." I shook my head. “If that were true, I should be rewarded for being a good person, but I've been punished my entire life. I want it to stop. I want to be happy." My bottom lip trembled. I did not want to cry in front of him, but what I wanted didn't appear to matter at that moment.

He lay on his back and pulled me so that my head was resting over his heart. I sobbed silently, my tears soaking his simple flannel pyjamas. "I don't know how to respond to that," he said after a while. "Sleep. We'll talk in the morning."

—————

I stretched, half awake, and reached for Gin. My hand closed on empty air and I realised that there was a warm body pressed against my back. I opened my eyes fully and the events of the previous night hit me like a two by four. 

I had made a total arse of myself and somehow managed to wind up in bed with Malfoy. That was his very masculine, very... hard... body tight against mine. “Good morning,” he murmured against my neck. His hand moved. Somehow, it had gotten up under the pyjama top and was laying on my stomach. I sucked in a breath at the skin-on-skin contact. He began to rub my belly in slow circles. His soft touch was comforting.

"Mmmm, that's nice,” I whispered. 

“It is, isn’t it?” His lips gently brushed the back of my neck. “Still want to kill yourself?”

“Right now? No.” 

I felt his lips curve into a smile against my neck. “Really?” 

I didn’t hesitate for a single second. “Yes.” I rolled over and looked at him, changing the topic. “You know, you’re the only one who treats me like I’m nothing special. You don’t seem to mind that I’m fucked up.” 

“We’re all fucked up. The War wasn’t easy on any of us.” Something flickered in his eyes again. They always betrayed him and I wondered if he knew how expressive they were. Even when his face was set, stone like, his eyes still broadcast the complex emotions being processed by his brain. 

Some days, I thought the only ones that did the best job of surviving the War were the ones who didn’t. The ones who spent their time populating my nightmares. I nodded, unable to articulate the myriad of thoughts and feelings spinning through my head. "No, it wasn't."

He bit the inside of his cheek, eyes carefully watching my face. He took a deep breath, sat up and looked down at me. “Are you going to try and reconcile with Ginny?”

“No.” My answer surprised me. I was supposed to be with her forever. I had said vows promising so. “She doesn’t make me feel the way you do.”

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t think about killing myself when I’m with you.”


	8. I Need You

“I’m really sorry about getting totally pissed last night, coming over unannounced, and complaining about my wife leaving me.” I looked into my teacup, hoping there weren’t any messages left behind in the form of tea leaves shaped like a falcon, a skull, or the Grim. I breathed a sigh of relief when there wasn’t a single tea leaf to be found. 

“No need to apologise.”

I set the cup on the table and lay down on the couch with my head on his lap. “You don’t want to spend time with me. Not as friends, or...whatever this is." I didn't want to get too attached to him, because I knew it would end badly. He'd decide he'd had enough of me - my mood swings, my nightmares, my suicide attempts - and he'd leave. I didn't want to get hurt, but more importantly, I didn't want to hurt him the same way I had hurt Ginny.

He ran his fingers through my hair, gently scratching my scalp, relaxing me to the point where I could have fallen asleep. "That's not really for you to decide. I'm the one your suicide attempts are going to affect, I'm the one your...other issues...are going to affect. The question is whether or not I'm strong enough to stay by your side when life sucks and you wind up in hospital again."

"You've thought about this?"

“Yeah. I… I… I need you, Potter, and I’m pretty sure you need me, too.” 

I thought about everything he had just said. It was a little scary to know he needed me, but I needed him, too. I guess that made us even. I closed my eyes and lost myself in the feel of his fingers rubbing my scalp. “When you came to my room, were you…”

“No!” He shook his head violently. “No.” He shook his head a little more calmly. “I wasn't expecting anything. I didn’t expect you to talk to me at all. I mean, look at how brilliantly we got along at Hogwarts.” Sarcasm dripped from his words, and I smiled despite myself. 

“Why did you come looking for me?” I sat up so I could see him more clearly.

“I didn’t, really. I was wandering around. I knew you were there, thanks to the paper, but I didn’t specifically look for you.” He sighed. “It was a complete coincidence that I walked past your room when you were kicking the Weasels out.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Father’s been gone for years, so it was only Mother and I. The people I used to know either distanced themselves from me, died, or wound up in Azkaban. I didn’t have anyone to turn to when she got sick.” He cleared his throat and wiped his eyes. “You were someone I knew. So. That’s why I stopped by. I kept coming back because you didn’t kick me out.”

"I was a familiar face." He nodded his agreement. I understood perfectly. At some point in all of this, he had become one, too. "It's weird to be friends with you," I admitted. "Especially the type of friends close enough to sleep together." I could feel my face heat up. I didn’t mean that the way it came out. “I… I… mean the type of friends who are… friendly?” I grimaced. This was just getting worse.

He smirked at my choice of words, and cleared his throat. "I hated you so much because I was jealous of the way you became the most famous person at Hogwarts. That was supposed to be me."

"You were jealous of me? Of me?! I had nothing! I was told my parents died in a car accident and I lived in a cupboard under the stairs for the first eleven years of my life!“

I was expecting him to comment on my parents or the cupboard. Instead, he shrugged. “I was a stupid kid. I don't know what else to say. I like that we've gotten past that. I'm glad that we've become the kind of friends that can sleep together." He smirked at me again, a faint blush colouring his cheeks. "I've always needed you in my life. You were the light to my dark. The good to my evil. I didn't know how badly I missed you until I saw you again at Mungo's."

His admission shocked me. I wouldn't have been able to put it so succinctly, but he'd said exactly what I'd been thinking. Yet, I couldn't guarantee I'd be around for much longer. I paused to choose my words carefully. “What if I try again and succeed?”

The weight of his decision was painfully obvious. “Well, then, I'll be thankful for whatever time I was able to spend with you."


	9. The Morning After

I rolled over and looked at Malfoy. He had asked me to spend the night again and I didn’t want to go home, so it was an easy decision. He was still sleeping soundly and I envied him. I hadn’t had a nightmare, but I hadn’t slept well, either. His words kept replaying in my head: ‘Well, then, I'll be thankful for whatever time I was able to spend with you.’ I don’t know how anyone could have slept with that kind of pressure on them. 

“Mmmmm, Harry.” He snuggled tighter against me, once again the big spoon. “Why are you awake?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” 

He sat up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, instantly alert. “Nightmares?”

“Not really, no.” I shook my head, sitting up. “I just couldn’t turn my brain off.”

“What’s bothering you?” He reached out and brushed my hair back so that it was off of my face. “Did you not want to spend the night here? I know two nights in a row, in my bed, might be too much. I’m OK if you want to leave.”

I shook my head again. “No. I don’t want to leave.” I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “You just… you said you’d be thankful for whatever time you’d get to spend with me. It’s… it feels like you want me to… I don’t know, but…” 

“Shut up, Potter.” The words were harsh, the tone light, the smile fond. I took another deep breath and wondered what he was about to say. “I told you last night, I know what I’m getting into. I’ve made the frighteningly easy decision to stay by your side, to be your friend, no matter what gets thrown our way.”

“You’re awfully soppy,” I teased. “Who knew the great Draco Malfoy, King of Slytherin House, and heir to the Malfoy fortune was such a softie?”

“I’ve changed.” His eyes were twinkling; once again, the emotion in them was perfectly clear. He was happy. I did that. I made him happy. “Will you go back to sleep now?” He yawned and then fell back onto the bed. “I’d really like to get some more rest.” 

—————

I woke up to Malfoy pressed tight against my back again, arms wrapped around me. If I wasn’t sleeping with my head on his chest, he was the big spoon. It made me feel safe, protected… loved. Oh. Shit. I rolled over and looked at him. His eyes popped open. “I’ve been waiting for you to wake up.” He brushed the hair off my forehead and traced the scar. “How are you feeling?”

“Great. Really, really, really, great.”

His eyes opened wide and his mouth opened. “Really?”

“Nah. I’d rather go kill myself.” I couldn’t hold back the smile and started to laugh at the look on his face. I stopped mid-chuckle when I realised that he didn’t think it was funny. “I’m sorry. I was trying to make a joke.”

“Too soon, Potter, too soon.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “But. I always want you to laugh, even if it is because of absolutely terrible jokes like that.” He flopped onto his back and stared at the ceiling. “Just. Please. Please don’t joke about that again. OK?”

“I’m sorry.” I lay with my head on his chest and wrapped my arm around his waist. “You’re right. That wasn’t funny. I do feel really good though… I like spending time with you… It feels good to know that I'm capable of being normal again. Maybe I won't always be broken."

He smiled. "That's my hope." 

I rolled off of him and sat up. “I think it's time I went home. At the very least, I need to find a solicitor.” I took a deep breath. “I’m going to do it. I’m going to file for divorce.”

His face fell at the mention of my pending divorce. It was too easy to forget that I was still legally married when I was with him. "Will I see you again?"

“Of course! Why would you ask something like that?"

"I don't know. Forget it. I'm just being stupid." 

I finished buttoning my shirt, then shook my head. “Come over tonight. I'll make you dinner."

His face lit up. "I don't want to be clingy."

“You’re not.” I finished putting my shoes on and sighed. I didn't want to leave. "Come over for dinner and bring a change of clothes. Dinner's at half six."


	10. Red Jelly

I wiped my hands on my jeans. I still had plenty of time to make the apple pie I had planned on, but I was nervous he wasn’t going to show up. I spun around the kitchen to ensure myself, for the thousandth time, that the roast was roasting, the jelly was setting, the wine was chilling, and the table was set. I began to peel the apples, taking pleasure in the simple act.

I heard the door open and I took a deep breath. I turned to face the foyer and saw… “Ginny?”

“Hi.” She looked around the kitchen. “You’re cooking. You never cook. Is this for me?”

“No. I didn’t know you were coming. I, um, I have a guest coming over.”

“A guest? Is this your friend from hospital?” She grabbed a butterbeer out of the fridge and took a sip. “We haven’t entertained here in years. Since when do you have guests over?”

“Since tonight.” I continued working with the apples, trying hard not to let her bother me. “Why are you here?”

“I needed to get some more clothes. I’m going to be living with one of my teammates in Wales for a while. I need some time to think about us.”

“That’s fine. Take as long as you need.” I began to cut up the apples, making a point not to look at her. “I think a break will do us good.” 

“You’ve been talking to Hermione, haven’t you?” She sighed. “I can’t do this tonight. I had a long day and I need to get back to Wales.” 

I nodded as I threw the apples into a pan. She didn’t say anything, either. I suppose as far as conversations about marriage dissolutions go, it was fairly painless. Of course, we hadn’t exactly talked about divorcing in detail, but I was pretty sure it was a foregone conclusion. 

I lost myself in heating up the apples, planning the next few steps in my head. For all the crappy things the Dursleys may have done to me, they had made me a great cook. In the beginning, I used to cook for Ginny and the Weasleys all the time. I had stopped cooking after the miscarriage, when I became depressed. It felt good to be in the kitchen again.

There was a knock on the door so I turned the burner off and let the apples cool. I practically ran to the door, knowing it would be him this time. I flung the door open and smiled. He was wearing one of his bespoke suits and carrying a small valise. “Hey, Potter. It smells good in here. I didn’t really think you knew how to cook.” 

“I haven’t cooked in ages.” I escorted him into the house and showed him to the kitchen. “Would you like a glass of wine? The pie’s almost ready to put in the oven.” 

“Pie?” He climbed onto a stool and watched me place the bottom crust into the pie dish. “You’re making apple pie? For me?”

“I know how much you like apples.” I smiled at him. “I forgot how much I enjoyed baking. It’s such an exact science, like potions.” 

“You were bloody terrible at potions, Potter. I’m going to get food poisoning, aren’t I,” he teased, his trademark smirk firmly on his face. 

“Yup.” I smirked back at him. “I hope I did a good job with the wine. I don’t know much about stuff like that.” 

He looked at the bottle with a critical eye before pouring himself a glass. “That’s what you have me for.”

“My own private wine picker.”

“The word you’re looking for is ‘sommelier’.” He sampled the wine. The smile on his face let me know I’d done a decent job. “Wine picker? Really?”

“I’m sorry. I’m not as refined as you are.” I pulled away and finished making the pie. I could feel those grey eyes watching my every move and it was easy to forget that my wife was still in the house. “Stop looking at my arse, Malfoy.”

“Blah, blah, blah.” He giggled as he took another sip of the wine. “I’m pretty sure it’s not a crime to look at your arse. I bet loads of people have.”

“Maybe.” I leaned against the counter and stared at him. He was blushing again. Was it the wine or was it something else?

“What the fuck is going on?!” Ginny dropped her bag and stood in shock. “This is your friend? Malfoy?”

“Yes.” I stood in front of him, arms crossed over my chest. “You said you were headed to Wales?” 

“Harry, this is insane. You can’t be friends with Malfoy... Or whatever the hell it is you two are. Are you cheating on me? With him?"

Cheating on her? With Malfoy? Really? “You said you were headed to Wales?” I repeated, gesturing to the door. “My friend and I are having dinner tonight, and I don’t recall inviting you.”

“You’re making a mistake, Harry.” She picked her bag up and started to head for the door. “You’ll be hearing from my solicitor.” 

“Not if you hear from mine first,” I snarled. “Get out.”

As soon as the door slammed behind her, I crumpled to the floor. Draco knelt down next to me. “That, um, could have gone a lot worse.”

“Yeah, it went pretty well, didn’t it?” I started to laugh. “I can see tomorrow’s headline: ‘The Boy Who Lived: Shirt Lifting Pouf Names Draco Malfoy the Chosen One.’”

To my surprise, Draco laughed, too. “You really have been reading the Prophet too long.” He snorted. “That’s exactly the kind of headline they’d use if she went to them with the idea that you’re cheating on her. With me.” He helped me stand up. “The roast smells fantastic.” 

I dusted myself off. “It’s a simple pork roast and tossed salad. Nothing special.”

“With homemade apple pie for dessert.” He smiled and ruffled my hair. "You're going to spoil me."

I smiled. "Consider it a thank you for all you've done so far." 

"So, you still don't feel like killing yourself?"

"You're going to keep asking, aren't you?" I wasn't annoyed by the constant questioning. Quite the opposite, really. It showed he cared.

"Would you tell me? If I didn't ask? I don't know you that well. I wouldn't be able to tell. I wouldn't be able to say goodbye properly." I pretended not to notice as his voice went up a pitch and his eyes suddenly looked wet. Oh. This was serious. 

What he said struck me like a blow to the groin. "You said, ‘say goodbye properly’. You wouldn't try to stop me?"

"No. I would. I always would. I love..." He cleared his throat, face suddenly bright red. "I love having you around," he covered. "The world is a better place because you're here, but I'm also smart enough to know that if you really wanted to, I probably couldn't stop you. So yeah, I'd like to know so I can say goodbye."

“I love having you around, too.” I hugged him tight to me. “It’s nice that you ask. I appreciate it.”

“It doesn’t bother you?” He pushed me away and looked me in the eye. 

“No.” I reached for his hand. “I promise, I’ll do my best to tell you what’s going on in my head.”

“That’s all I can ask for.” 

—————

“I have a surprise for you.” I came into the dining room with a covered plate in my hands. “It’s a pre-dessert.”

“Like a cheese plate?”

“If cheese plates were made out of red jelly…” I lifted the lid and showed him the plate full of red jelly.

“Potter, you are fucking crazy.” He laughed and pulled me towards him. “I like that about you, though. You keep life interesting.” 

I stumbled and landed in his lap. “I’m glad you feel that way, because I don’t think I’ll ever be normal.” He rested his hands on my hips and smiled up at me. “I made a few jelly shots with the extra.”

“I like the way you think.” He wriggled a little bit so I sat on him more comfortably. “I really like the way you think.” 

“I have been known to have a brilliant idea from time to time.”


	11. Bow Ties Are Cool

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is such a ridiculously short chapter… I'll make up for it with the next one. Promise. *grin*

Draco flopped on the couch. His suit jacket was long gone and his top two buttons on his shirt were undone. He looked so relaxed and at ease. It dawned on me that I hardly ever saw him like that at Hogwarts. Even before he took the Dark Mark. The pressure of being Lucius Malfoy’s son must have been ridiculous. “Christ, Potter. You can cook dinner for me anytime. I’ll even fire my House Elves.” 

“So, you liked it?” I sat down next to him, proud that my dinner had been a hit. 

“I’ve never had a better apple pie, and whatever you did to that pork roast? Merlin! If I cooked, I’d beg you for the recipe.” He moved so that he lay with his head in my lap. “I’m so full, I could pop.” He pulled his shirt out of his trousers and slid his hand up under it. He rubbed his belly, while I tried not to look at the sliver of snowy skin showing. 

“Do you want to watch some telly?"

"Telly?" 

I smiled. I had completely forgotten that he wouldn't have had exposure to Muggle things. It had taken me a while to convince Ginny to get one, but she wound up loving it more than I did. I reached for the remote and turned it on. I changed the channels until I found an episode of ‘Master Chef’. “I love this programme.”

“Really? It’s just watching people cook. Doesn’t it get boring?”

“Did you get bored watching me in the kitchen when I finishing up dinner?”

“No, but that was mostly because I was watching your arse.” I flicked him on the forehead. “Hey! It’s a nice arse! Also, you moved with such grace, you might as well be dancing. It was… nice… to watch.”

“I spent a lot of time cooking for the Dursleys. I guess finding a rhythm just comes naturally.” I shrugged.

“I’m coming over for dinner more often.” 

“That’s fine with me.” I ran my fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp lightly. He practically purred and nudged his head into my hand. 

After a few minutes, he fell asleep. There was something about the way he let his guard down with me that was both heartwarming and absolutely terrifying. When had we changed from the stupid boys we were to the broken men we were now? When had we realised we were better together than apart? Maybe we needed to figure out who we were before we could make peace with our pasts, but I never would have expected that he’d become part of my future.

‘Master Chef’ ended, and Draco was still asleep. I found an old episode of ‘Doctor Who’ and turned it on. A few minutes into the episode, he finally woke up. "Who's the bloke in the bow tie? He looks like a giraffe dressed like a Muggle professor.”

"That's the Doctor. He wears a bow tie. Bow ties are cool." 

Draco looked at me, one eyebrow perfectly arched. "Only when they're used as blindfolds or restraints.”

I choked on the breath I was taking. I was pretty sure he was flirting with me.

And I was pretty sure I liked it.


	12. Dreaming of Draco

_“C’mon, Potter!” Malfoy dragged me by the hand through the pub and towards the loo.There had been so much sexual tension during dinner that this was, logically, the next step. If it had been someone other than Malfoy, of course._

_“What are you doing?” I wasn’t drunk enough to think that this was a good idea, but I wasn’t sober enough to think it was a bad idea, either. “I’m not gay.”_

_“Neither am I.” That damn smirk was on his face. “Scared, Potter?”_

_“You wish.”_

_He pushed the door open and strolled in like he owned the tiny room. Despite the outward appearance of the pub, the loo was spotless. The tang of artificial citrus cleanser burned my nose. It was vaguely comforting. If we were really going to do this, at least it wouldn’t be the clichéd hook up in a dirty bar loo. He pushed me into a stall and locked the door behind us. Skilled hands made short work of his belt. Before I realised what he had done, his trousers and pants were pooled around his ankles and he was leaning against the wall. He grabbed my glasses and shoved them into his jacket pocket. “On your knees, Potter. Now.”_

_I gasped as I looked at his erection. It was long, thin, and settled in a nest of the palest blond hair, so different than mine. My cock strained against my jeans as I thought about what was going to happen._

_I **wanted** to do this. I wanted to blow **Malfoy** in this loo._

_My mouth began to water as I stared at him, the head already beginning to shine with pre-come. I sunk to my knees, took him in my hand, and began to stroke him. I looked up into those cold, steel grey eyes of his and whispered, “I’ve never done this before.”_

_“Blown a bloke in a loo, or just blown a bloke, period?” I’d never wanted to wipe that damn smirk off of his face more in my life. I’m not sure what he saw in my face, but his eyes warmed the slightest bit, and the smirk disappeared. “Just watch your teeth, yeah?” He ran his fingers through my hair, pushing it out of my eyes. His touch was so gentle, it surprised me._

_I nodded solemnly and contemplated the task - literally - in front of me. I thought about all the times that Ginny had blown me, trying to remember the things I liked. I took a deep breath, got comfortable, closed my eyes, and tentatively swirled my tongue around the head of his cock. He sucked in a breath and mumbled something under his breath as he exhaled. I tried it again and got the same response._

_Emboldened, I took the tip into my mouth and hummed a little bit. “Potter, look at me.” I looked up at him, cock still in my mouth, curiosity clearly written all over my face. “Keep your eyes locked on me. Don’t stop.”_

_I swallowed around him and he groaned. His eyes fluttered shut, but snapped open as I took him a little deeper into my mouth. I did my best to swirl my tongue around him and he thrust into my mouth. I gagged and pulled back. I decided it was safer to lick his shaft, running my tongue along the vein on the bottom and lightly flicking at the head. As I did, I tried to catalogue the emotions dancing across his face. Whenever I saw him bite his bottom lip and close his eyes, I did whatever it was again. My own cock throbbed uncomfortably and I reached down to give it a good squeeze. I moaned around him as I rubbed myself, causing him to jump again._

_He grabbed my head in both hands and pulled me off of him. I licked my lips, trying to capture the little bit of saliva that had escaped. “Don’t touch yourself.” His voice was stern. “Your only concern right now is getting me off. Nothing else.” I whimpered at the command. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to keep my hand off of myself. “I’m serious, Potter. I’m in control now. Don’t you dare forget that for even a second.” He pulled my hair roughly, as if to prove his point, before pushing me away. “Suck me, Potter. Now.”_

_I buried my nose in the hair at the base of his erection and inhaled deeply. The musky scent was distinctly his and my mouth watered again. I scattered kisses all over his groin and thighs, trying to avoid his cock. There was another tug on my hair. I swirled my tongue over the tip again, making sure my eyes were locked on his face. He sighed as I took as much of him into my mouth as possible. I kept him there, appreciating the heavy weight of him pressing on my tongue. I grabbed his hips to try and keep him from fucking my face. I dug my fingertips in so deep, I’m sure I was going to leave bruises that wouldn’t fade for days. I hummed again. “Do… that… again,” he panted, eyes screwed shut tight. I did as he asked. “Christ, Potter, you’re going to make me…”_

_I let him fuck my mouth; the slurping sounds filled the small room, arousing me further. I moaned, desperate to touch myself, but terrified that he would end our encounter if I disobeyed. He stopped breathing, his face a mixture of pain and pleasure as he spilled into my mouth. I swallowed the hot, salty liquid, the best I could, but some of it still dribbled down the side of my mouth and dripped onto my t-shirt. He released my hair and slumped back, still dripping. I leaned forward and licked up the small drop forming on his head, desperate to keep tasting him._

_Finally, there wasn’t anything left and I sat back against the stall door. He ran his fingers through his hair, mussing it up. His face was flush and there was a look in his eyes I’d never seen before. “Come here,” he ordered, voice rough._

_I did as I was told and was rewarded with his tongue forcing its way past my lips and into my mouth. It swirled around as he tasted himself. I sucked on his tongue and pulled back, dragging his bottom lip out. We rested, forehead to forehead, breathing each other’s air, until our breathing evened out. I was afraid to say anything that might spoil the mood, but I was desperate to come. “May I…” I swallowed hard, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. “May I touch myself?”_

_“Stand up.” Once again, I did as I was told. I briefly wondered what it was about Malfoy controlling our activities that was turning me on so much. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply as his fingers worked my flies and shoved my jeans and boxers to the floor. He licked his lips, and I hoped he would blow me. “Wank.”_

_I smeared some of the pre-come on my thumb and rubbed it in circles over the head. I looked at him and my breath caught. It was quite a sight to see - Malfoy watching my hand move, his lips apart, his tongue darting out to moisten them, his breathing ragged - and it made my balls tighten. I stopped moving my hand and closed my eyes, willing myself to think of something, anything, that would help me last a little longer. I didn’t want to embarrass myself by coming too soon._

_“Did I tell you you could stop?” My eyes popped open. He was glaring at me. I stuttered out an apology and then began the slowest stroking I could manage, twisting when my hand reached the base. I hissed as I tried to hold back my orgasm._

_Malfoy dropped to his knees gracefully and swallowed me whole. That was all it took. I filled his mouth, groaning his name, fingers pulling at the soft, blond hair._

I jolted upright, aware that my pants were wet and sticking to me. Had I really just had a wet dream about Malfoy? While he was sleeping next to me? Fuck. I looked down and noticed I was still hard. Double fuck. I had just reached for my wand to cast a cleaning spell when he woke up.

"Potter? You ok?" He reached out for me and accidentally brushed his hand against the sticky mess soaking through my pants. He slowly withdrew his hand and sat up. “Merlin, Potter, did you..."

I wasn't sure if he could see my blush, but I certainly felt it. "Yeah. Like a bloody teenager." I cast the cleaning spell, but couldn't do anything about my lingering erection. I set my wand back down and sighed.

"Do I dare ask who you were dreaming about?" He glanced at the tent in the sheets. "It looks like it was pretty good. I’ve never been able to stay hard like that after coming.”

I lay down on my stomach. “Can we please talk about anything but the fact that I’m apparently regressing into the randy teenager I never got a chance to be?”

“You said my name. That’s what woke me up,” he said softly. I could feel him lay back down. “I thought maybe you had a nightmare. Obviously, I was wrong.”

“Obviously, but it’s certainly turning into one now,” I mumbled into the pillow. 

He rested a shaking hand on my back. “Don’t be embarrassed.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You didn’t wake me up whilst dreaming about coming in my mouth.”

A gentle hand pushed me over onto my side. “Must have been one hell of a good blow job.” He was smiling. I hadn’t upset him. That was weird. 

“You’re not upset?” He shook his head. “But, it was you… and… me…”

“And?” He ran his fingers through my hair, pushing the fringe out of my eyes. He moved quickly and brushed his lips against my scar before settling back down. “It doesn’t bother me, Harry. Don’t let it bother you. Go back to sleep.”

As if it were that easy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awww… my first sex scene and Harry's first time giving head. I'm so proud of both of us. *giggles*


	13. Breakfast with Ginny

I woke up to Draco spooning me, his arm tight around my waist. I shifted slightly and he pressed a soft kiss to the back of my neck. “Mornin’, Potter.” He squeezed me even tighter against him and nuzzled my neck. I hummed in pleasure. “You like that? Mmmm?” 

I wriggled free and rolled so that I could face him. “It’s a little unexpected, but there are worse ways to wake up.” His hair was all over the place and his face was puffy with sleep. I reached out and tried to calm his hair down. “Your hair is terrible, Malfoy. It’s starting to look like mine.”

He slapped my hand away. “My hair will never look as bad as that disaster on the top of your head.”

“You’re just jealous.” I smirked at him as I ran my fingers through his hair again. I liked seeing him like this, with his guard down, happy, relaxed. It was such a change from the boy I used to know and I was glad that I got to see him like this.

“In your dreams.” He laughed. “Hey, speaking of dreams, how was it? Was I any good? I bet I was amazing.”

“I think it’s time we got out of bed and got our day started.”

“I’m going to let you change the topic this once, Potter.”

“'I’m going to let you change the topic this once, Potter,'” I mimicked, pushing him away. He squawked as he fell back against the mattress and I pounced on top of him, tickling him. “I’ll stop when you admit that I have nicer hair than you!”

It wasn’t until I’d fallen on top of him, breathless, that the reality of our situation sunk in. My erection fit nicely next to his and the way he was biting his bottom lip made me want to suck on it. Oh. When did that happen? I was still trying to keep the majority of my weight off of him when he brushed my hair out of my face. “Your hair is brilliant, Potter, but it will never be nicer than mine.” 

“Oh, shut up, Malfoy.” I moved to get off of him and accidentally rubbed myself against his hip. I gasped at the feeling and closed my eyes to collect my thoughts. When I opened them, his eyes were wide with surprise. “Sorry.” 

I tried it again, being more aware of where my body was, but he grabbed onto my hips and held me in place. “Don’t. Move,” he said through gritted teeth. “Please.” 

“I can’t stay like this forever.” I tried to wrestle free, but all I ended up doing was rutting against his hip. In a panic, I pushed as hard as I could and fell off the side of the bed. I whacked my head on the nightstand on the way down. “BLOODY HELL THAT HURT!”

He peeked over the side of the bed. “I told you not to move.”

“Fuck off, Malfoy,” I growled. “This is all your fault.”

“What did I do?”

“You gave me an amazing blow job, OK? Best one I ever had. Now I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“It was only a dream, Harry.”

“I know.” I sighed and got back on the bed. “It doesn’t help that I haven’t gotten off in like three years.” I got back into the bed and rolled onto my stomach. 

His hand lay on the small of my back, his thumb rubbing circles. “Well, the next time you dream about me sucking you off, imagine I’m all teeth or something.”

“I have enough nightmares as it is. I’d rather you continue being brilliant.” I could literally feel his smile in the changed atmosphere of the room. I rolled over to face him and confirmed that. “If that’s OK with you.”

“It’s fine. Come here.” He pulled me so that my head was resting on his chest. I relaxed as I listened to his heartbeat, his fingers threading though my hair. “I’m quite fond of you, Potter, and I certainly don’t mind being in your dreams, no matter how dirty, as long as it makes you feel better.”

—————

Under Malfoy’s watchful eye, I danced through making waffles, a cinnamon apple syrup, and sausage for breakfast. I even squeezed fresh orange juice for him. I may have spent too much at the grocery, but I was bound and determined to take care of him in the only way I knew I was capable of. 

We hadn’t bothered to get dressed and Malfoy’s bed head was still very much a thing of legend. I grinned every time I saw it, which was pissing him off, and causing me to stare at it even harder. I was just about to say something when Ginny walked into the kitchen.

"Fuck, Ginny, don't you know how to knock?" I almost dropped the carafe of orange juice in surprise. Malfoy, to his credit, continued to eat instead of acknowledging our unwanted guest.

"Last I checked, my name was still on the deed." She looked around the kitchen. "You made dinner and breakfast? Since when do you cook?"

"Why don't you sit down, Ginny, and join us?" He had gotten up and pulled one of the chairs out. “Potter made way too much food."

Ginny looked at him like he'd lost his mind. "Go on, Gin. He's right. I made way too much food for the two of us."

Her gaze swept from him to me and back again. She sat down and allowed Malfoy to fetch her a plate. "You're feeling better," she asked softly. 

"I am." There was no point in lying to her.

She was silent while she ate. We ate in silence with her. Finally, Malfoy excused himself. Once he was out of earshot, she put her fork down. "I remember when you used to make me breakfast." When I didn't answer her, she sighed. "Hermione told me that you and Malfoy spent a lot of time together at Mungo's. I didn't want to believe that you could be friends with him. Especially after what his father did to me, but if it made you happy, I wasn't going to say anything."

"He makes me happy." I pushed a piece of sausage around my plate. "Why are you here, Gin? I know it's not because you were hungry."

"I wanted to tell you that I think you and Hermione are right. You and I... We haven't been doing well for a while. I think your suicide was the last straw for me."

"Attempt, Gin. I attempted suicide. I didn't succeed."

“I shouldn’t have intervened. I should have let you go… it was obvious you weren’t happy, but I thought I could still fix you. I know I can’t. But someone else appears to have figured out how.” She lay her hands flat on the table and stared at them. It was her tell: we were about to have a conversation that wasn't going to end well. "I want a divorce."

"Good." I didn't know what else to say. "Do you want the flat? I can move out."

"Where would you go?" I shrugged and nodded in the direction of the bedroom. "You'd move in with Malfoy? What's going on between you two? It’s obvious he spent the night.” 

“We’re just friends. I know what it looks like, but it’s not like that.” Yet, I thought. Maybe it would never be… I was good with whatever we were doing right now. “I swear, Gin, I’m not cheating on you with him.” 

She turned pale. "Right. Well. The only thing we own together is this place, and I really don't want to live here, so I'm going to go back to Wales and find a solicitor. It should be easy enough." She paused and then looked at me, tears filling her eyes. "I guess this is it." She stood up. "I'll owl you in a few days about getting the rest of my things."

I nodded. "I'll make sure I'm not here." She looked at me one last time before walking out the door. I dropped my head into my hands and began to cry. I’d failed her in so many ways. This wasn’t how it was supposed to end between us. We should have been happy, with a house full of children, together until a natural death at an incredibly old age. Instead, I ruined everything about our relationship. I didn’t deserve to happy. Not with Malfoy, of all people. It was like a double slap to her face: I didn’t love her, and whether or not I loved him, I chose him over her. Not that I was ever going to admit that part of it. 

I was surprised to feel a warm hand on my shoulder. I'd forgotten he was still here. I turned to look at him, tears flowing down my cheeks. “I… I don’t feel well.” I wasn’t quite at the point where killing myself sounded like a good idea, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t get to that point soon.

He immediately pulled me out of the chair and hugged me tight to him. “Come here.” He walked me to the living room and had me sit on the couch. He knelt in front of me, eyes wide with concern. “What happened?”

“We’re getting divorced. I knew this was coming, but… it still… I’ve failed her. I’ve failed her family. I’m a terrible person. The world would be better off without me.” I sniffled and wiped my nose on my shirt sleeve. “Are you sure you still want… whatever this is? With… me?”

“Of course, I still want whatever this is, with you, you moron.” He smiled at me and used this thumb to wipe the tears off my face. “I know this isn’t what you thought your life would turn out to be like. But. It seems to make you happy. You shouldn’t let what you could’ve, should’ve, would’ve, done get in the way of what you really want.” He paused and took my hands in his. “What do you want?”

“I want to be happy. I want to keep spending time with you. I want to stop letting Ginny get to me and making me feel absolutely worthless.” I lay down on the couch and tried to get those negative thoughts out of my head. “Everything that went wrong between us is all my fault. I used to have terrible nightmares where she’d die. I hated visiting and living with her parents… the house, the family, felt wrong without Fred. George’s missing ear was my fault. The miscarriage that killed our son could have killed her. It would have killed her if the Healer hadn’t gotten there at the last possible second. I’m a terrible person. It never ends well for the people in my life.”

“You saved me.” He pushed me over and lay next to me on the couch. “You made me want to change sides during the War. You saved me from the fiendfyre. You saved me when my mother died. Whether or not you meant to, you made me a better man.”

“Bollocks.” I was starting to feel better. Not much, but it was something. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“No, I’m not.” He brushed my hair out of my face. “I’m saying it because it’s the truth.”


	14. A Dragon Named Harry Potter

After taking a shower, Malfoy offered to wash the dishes. He’d taken his hoodie off, and was standing at the sink in a grey v-neck t-shirt that matched his eyes beautifully. The Dark Mark, although faded to almost nothing, was still visible. He twitched when he realised I was staring at it. “I don’t think it will ever completely go away.” 

“I don’t mind.” I perched on the counter next to the sink, drying them as he handed them to me. “It makes you who you are.”

“Stop being soppy and let me do the dishes.” He smiled and handed me a frying pan.

“Fiiiiiiiine,” I rolled my eyes.

“I bet you didn’t think I’d know how to wash dishes Muggle style,” he said without looking at me. 

“No. I didn’t think you would. I figured you’d use magic, or summon a House Elf from the Manor.” I grinned as he turned around and glared at me.

“I don’t need magic, or Elves, to survive. After…” He cleared his throat. “I stopped using magic. I rarely use it now, unless I have good reason, like removing the restraints from you in hospital.”

“Oh. I don’t like to use magic either, anymore.”

“I’ve noticed. There’s nothing wrong with that. You seem to be quite comfortable living as a Muggle.”

“Ginny hates it. She uses magic all the time. I think she does it to annoy me.”

“Well, I’m not her.”

“So I’ve noticed. You’re also not the same person I knew at Hogwarts.” I jumped off of the counter and hugged him. “And I can’t thank you enough for that.” 

"I've changed a lot." He sighed. "I couldn't save my mother, but I'm trying to save myself." 

"I think you're doing a good job." I rested my head against his shoulder. "Thank you for taking such good care of me.”

“You’ve been caring for the Wizarding World your entire life. Take some time off and let others take care of you. Let me take care of you.” 

I buried my head in the crook of his neck and inhaled his scent. I found myself amazed - again - at how much things had changed between us. When had I fallen for him? Was it the first time he had shown me the real him? That little lost boy, who had turned into an equally lost man, and visited me in Mungo’s that first night? Was it when we had woken up together? Was it more subtle than that? I’d read a Muggle book recently that described falling in love like falling asleep: you do it slowly, and then all at once. That seemed fitting… but which ever way it happened, it was the truth. I was in love with him and there was nothing I could do about it. I didn’t even want to ask him how he felt about me because I knew that if he rejected me, I’d make sure I succeed the next time. A world without Ginny and Malfoy? Nope. Wouldn’t be able to handle it. 

He pushed me away gently. I could read the fear clearly in those stormy eyes and I wondered what he was going to say. “I think that you should know why I killed my father.” He sat at the kitchen table and picked nervously at his cuticles. I’d never seen him like this, and it was unsettling. “I’m gay, Potter. I’m sure you can imagine how it went over when I decided to come out instead of settling for the arranged marriage with Astoria Greengrass. It was purely self-defence… I just happened to be quicker than he was. Mother was so proud of me, and it… Harry, it felt so good. I’d do it again, in a heartbeat, if I had to.” He wiped a tear from his eye. “It felt… good,” he repeated. “It shouldn’t have.”

I dropped into the seat next to him, my legs suddenly giving out. “I had no idea. I’m… that’s… terrible that it had to come to that.”

“Honestly, I figured he’d kill me. I’d even started putting my things in order before I decided to call off the wedding. Believe it or not, I was going to leave Granger some of my books. I even had something set aside for you.” He was blushing furiously at that admission. 

“What? Do I even want to know?”

“There’s this stuffed dragon that I named Harry Potter… it’s stupid.” 

I smiled, touched by the sentiment, and curious as hell. “Oh, come on. Now you have to tell me about that! I told you about my wet dream.”

“Every wizard or witch grew up hearing about you… The Boy Who Lived.” I grimaced at the name, aware I’d never escape it. It wasn’t like I’d chosen to live that night. If Voldemort had been smarter, he might have chosen a better way to kill me, like smother me with a pillow or something like that. It wasn’t like I could have protected myself. “Stop it, Potter,” he said, reading my thoughts. “My father, of course, was heavily involved in the Death Eaters back then, as well. I thought that if you were my friend, you’d protect me from the Dark Lord… so I named my dragon after you. It worked. For a while.”

“I’m sorry I failed you.” I looked at his arm. “If I’d been a better protector, you’d never have gotten that.” I reached out and traced the outline of the Mark. “I failed a lot of people.” I looked away from him. Once again, the truth slipped out. Why did he have that affect on me?

“You never failed me.” He held my eyes for a long time. “You. Never. Failed. Me.”


	15. Served

Draco and I were watching ‘Master Chef’ when Ginny barged into the house. He still maintained that watching people cook was boring, but he tolerated it for my sake. “What the fuck, Harry? What is this?” She shoved a bunch of crumpled pages in my face.

“I’m filing for divorce,” I said calmly. “You seem surprised.”

“You sent a fucking bailiff to Wales. You couldn’t firecall me? Or send it via Owl Post? You had to send a fucking bailiff?”

“I wanted to make sure you got them.” I waved my hand. “You’re blocking the telly.”

“You’re not going to say anything?” She crossed her arms and stood there, staring me down.

Draco huffed and reached for the remote control. He paused the programme and glared at her. “I believe that Harry, via his solicitor, has said all that needs to be said. Now, I’d like to ask you to leave.”

I smirked. “I second that.” 

She flopped into the armchair, anger turning into grief. “Why are you doing this?”

Draco’s hand covered mine. “Would you like me to go?” 

“No. You can stay.” He settled back onto the couch, bouncing the remote against his leg. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and looked at Ginny. “You know why, but here, in case you need to hear it again: I’m doing this because I don’t love you any more. You’ve struggled our entire relationship with who I was, and what being that person did to me. You kept me from killing myself but never asked me why or tried to understand why I wanted to. Things went horribly wrong after the miscarriage, and we never recovered from that. I don’t want to do this any more. I can’t do this any more. Being with you… it depresses me. It makes me want to kill myself.” 

She wiped a tear off her face with a shaking hand. “That’s not fair.”

Draco shifted next to me, a hand coming to rest on my thigh. A subtle claim of ownership; a reminder to Ginny as to how things had changed. “I’d like to point out,” he said softly, “that you effectively abandoned Harry in hospital. Had he been my spouse, I would have been by his side until he was released. Taking care of him. Loving him. Not for who he was, but who he is.”

“He told me to go away. So I did.” 

Draco took a deep breath. “True love, real love, isn’t scared away by anger.”

“So you think that’s what you two have? Real love,” she scoffed. 

I didn’t know how to respond to that; Draco and I still hadn’t delved into what was going on between us, happy enough to let it run its natural course. Besides, even if we had discussed it, I wasn’t going to do anything until my divorce was final and I think he understood that. “Gin, our relationship was based on hero worship.” I sighed. It was a low blow, but it was the truth and we both knew it. “Gin, it’s for the best.” 

“I’m going to fight this. I’m not ready to walk away from my marriage despite the fact that my husband already has.”

“It’s a marriage in name only.” Draco hit the remote against his leg with a little more force. “Ms. Weasley, if you have any further questions about the divorce proceedings, I suggest you contact a solicitor. I’d give you the name of an excellent one, but he’s on retainer, so it would be a conflict of interest.”

“Fuck both of you.” She stood up and threw her keys at me. “Keep the fucking flat.”

“Good. I really prefer this place to the Manor.” Draco smiled sweetly. 

I decided to step in before the hexes started flying. "Actually, I thought we could sell this and split the money."

"Are you saying you're moving in with me?" "Are you saying you're moving in with _him_?" The voices were loud, surprised. I hadn’t quite expected either reaction, although I’m not sure why.

"All I'm saying is that we could sell the house and split the money. That's all." I shrugged. "I haven't decided if I want to move into the Manor or have my own place."

"A fresh start, a place of our own, would be nice," Draco said softly. "I have to keep the Manor, of course, but that doesn't mean I have to live there."

I smiled despite not really being ready for this conversation. "That sounds great. What do you say, Gin? Sell it and halve the profits?"

You could see the exact second when the penny dropped, and my heart broke a little bit at the amount of raw pain in her face. "Our marriage really is over."

Even Draco reacted to the hurt radiating from her. “This wasn’t an easy decision for him, you know. It’s not like I came into his life and he decided it was over between you. Harry’s really struggled to make a decision that is fair to both of you, not the three of us. The two of you,” he repeated. 

She wiped another tear from her face. “Bollocks.” 

“No,” I whispered. “I didn’t talk to him about this until I was sure it was what I wanted.” I cleared my throat. “You were my wife and I made certain promises to you. Promises I can’t keep any more.”

She stood up on shaky legs. “I need to think about this.”

“That’s fine,” I nodded. “Take your time.” 

She nodded, clutching the paperwork in a trembling hand. “Fine.” She took a deep breath and looked towards the door. “You’ll be hearing from me, I guess.” 

I nodded in return. “OK.”

—————

After dinner, we returned to the couch. Draco lay down and spooned me as we watched an old episode of ‘Top Gear’. I’d slipped into a funk after Ginny left and hadn’t been able to get out of it, despite Draco’s best attempts. “I wish I could help you, Harry.” 

“I wish you could, too.” I pushed back against him even more, and wrapped his arms tighter around me. “She… I don’t know… I do still love her, but…”

“Sssssh. It’s OK. I understand, or at least, I think I do.” He kissed the back of my neck. “You’ve gone through so much and she’s a reminder of all the bad times. Her family alone is a constant reminder. The miscarriage was the final proof that you could never protect her… from who you were, who you are, who you’ll always be. That’s when everything got really bad between you two, wasn’t it?”

A tear escaped my eye. Why was he so good at this? I rolled over to face him. “Yeah. I almost killed her, Draco, and I could never tell her why.”

“Would it have made it better if you did?”

“I don’t know.” I buried my face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent. Apples. Always apples. “I should have. I guess I still could.” 

“You’ll tell me if there’s anything I can do to help you, right?”

“I promise.” I paused for a moment before adding, “You’re very good at helping me, you know. You always help, even when I don’t know I need it.”

“I know.” He traced my scar, a soft smile on his face. “I seem to be especially good at it. It’s the first thing I’ve ever been really good at.” 


	16. It Doesn't Matter Anymore

Hermione settled into the armchair and looked at Draco and I. “I can’t believe you and Ginny are divorced.”

“We didn’t belong together. We never did. I know she wants to make it about me cheating on her with Draco, but it’s not like that at all. I mean,” I looked at him, and sighed, “we’re just friends.”

“Of course, we are. We’re the type of friends who can sleep together,” came the murmured reply from my side. I smacked him with a pillow. ”Potter! Stop! You’ll muss my hair!”

I smiled at him before affectionately ruffling his hair. Hermione tried to hide her laugh behind a cough, but I could see that she was amused. She’d been coming to visit more often since I had Ginny served with the divorce papers. I think she was checking in with me, to make sure I was still doing OK, even though Draco had moved in right away. It had taken her a while but she and Draco were starting to get used to each other. We couldn’t get Ron to accept my friendship with him, especially because Ginny was adamant that Draco and I were fucking, but I’d take what I could get. I decided to change the subject. “Drake and I are going to look at a place together.” 

“Don’t call me Drake,” he pouted before laying with his head on my lap. Once he got comfortable, he looked at Hermione. “Potter said that this place we’re going to look at today has a garden large enough for a dog.”

I ran my fingers through his hair. “It’s got a loft bedroom and a huge garden. It’s perfect for two guys and their dog.”

“No kids?” Hermione asked softly. “You guys aren’t even thinking about adopting? I thought you wanted kids, Harry.”

I looked down at Draco. He shook his head and I followed suit. The loss of James still weighed on me, and Draco wasn’t sure he wanted a child at all. For now, we had decided to wait and see if we’d change our minds. “No. No kids. We’ll raise a furry child and be the world’s best uncles.”

“I understand why you wouldn’t want to be the father, Harry, but why not let Draco father the child?” She didn’t know why Ginny miscarried, but she had assumed - rightly so - that losing our child had hurt me greatly. 

“Hermione,” Draco said with an edge to his voice. “That’s really none of your business. Harry and I decided that we weren’t raising kids. Period. End of discussion.”

“What about the Malfoy name and having an heir?” She wouldn’t let it go and I could feel Draco tense up.

“That’s none of your concern.” Ice dripped from his words. Fuck. We’d been doing so well lately. Of course she had to push that button. The Malfoy name and pureblood obligations were a very sore topic with Draco. The ghost of his father, the pressure of Lucius’s expectations, had been something he had yet to shake. 

“Hermione, please,” I begged. “Can we change the topic?” 

She sighed and brushed her hair out of her eyes. “Where are you looking to move?”

“Westbourne Park. I found a flat I really like in Bayswater; two of them, actually. They were great for the two of us, but neither one was big enough for him. It’s like he wants to live in a flat the size of the Manor. Between the two of us, we could afford anything, anywhere, but I just want a simple, little, flat.” I looked down at Draco. He was relaxed and his eyes were closed; already asleep. I don’t know how he did it so quickly. I’d woken him up early so we could eat breakfast with Hermione and it was time for his nap. He always napped when we woke up early. It was kind of adorable. “I want a flat that’s just large enough for the two of us and our dog.”

“The dog thing is serious?”

“Yeah. He wants a dog and I don’t know how to say no to him.” 

“It’s easy. You just tell him no, he’s not getting a dog.”

“Do you know, whenever I’m feeling a little off, he checks in with me? He can tell when something’s not quite right, even before I can. He’s figured out how to work me through the worst of it. If this thing between us hadn’t happened, I’d probably be dead by now.”

“You really think about killing yourself that much?”

“I used to.” It was easy to admit it to her. I could have never said that to Ginny, or even Ron. “I still have my bad days, but they’re few and far between now.” I looked down at the sleeping man in my lap. “I don’t know, Hermione. He never bought into the whole Boy Who Lived crap. He treats me like a person. I like it. It’s nice.”

“He changed a lot when his mother got sick."

"No. I think it was long before that. Might go all the way to when he was made a Death Eater. It doesn't matter. He needed someone when his mother was dying and I just happened to be there. Literally. I don't know how it happened, but…” 

“You broke her heart, Harry. Shattered it, in fact.” She sighed and shook her head. “She needs you to have cheated on her with Malfoy. It makes her feel better to have someone to blame.”

"What I did to Gin was terrible, even without everyone thinking Draco and I are lovers, but I'm not going to apologise for putting myself first.”

Draco snorted and rolled over. Hermione was looking at him, a soft smile on her face. “He lights up when you walk into the room, you know.”

“He does not.”

“He does.” She smiled at me. “Are you excited to buy a flat together? You must be.”

“I am. I’m definitely a little nervous about moving in together, though.”

“Aren’t you living together now?”

“In mine and Gin’s house. Not ours.”

“It’s a big step,” she said thoughtfully. “And you’ve been through an awful lot in the past year… are you sure this is the right thing to do?”

“I want to be with him ‘Mione. Of course it’s the right thing to do. It doesn’t mean it’s not nerve wracking. My life with Ginny was planned to the smallest detail: get married, have kids, blah blah blah. I like that this wasn’t planned. It’s exciting.” I babbled. “Ginny needed me to do everything. Decide where we were going to dinner. Tell her what dress to wear when we went out. Make her breakfast. Make her dinner. It was like she didn’t know how to be independent.”

“That’s not fair.” I glared at Hermione, angry that she would take Ginny’s side. She sighed and tried again. “She just wanted to be perfect for you. All she wanted was to make you happy in the same way Draco does.” 

Surprised, I stopped running my fingers through his hair. “It’s not… not… not like that.” Draco rolled onto his other side and bumped his head against my hand. Even in his sleep, he was a needy bastard. I looked down at him and smirked. He sighed blissfully when I began to play with his hair again. “Fucking prat,” I whispered. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Sensing we were done, she stood up. “Have fun looking at places today. You’ll have to let me know how it goes.” She brushed her lips against my forehead. “Say goodbye to Draco for me.”

“Will do.” As she turned to leave I said, “Tell Ginny I really appreciate her helping it go quickly.” 

“Of course.” She looked down at Draco and then up to me. “Now that the divorce is final, are you two finally going to admit that you want to be more than friends?”

“I’m not gay.” 

“I don’t think it matters any more.” With a wink and a pointed glance back down to my lap, she apparated out of my house. 


	17. Football

Draco fell face first onto the grass as the football sailed over his head. “That’s not fair, Potter!” 

“It’s perfectly fair.” I ran over to help him up. “I kicked the ball at you, you didn’t stop it, and it went into the net. That’s how football works.” 

He dusted himself off and glared at me as I went over to get the ball. “You have this whole big net to kick the ball into and I’m just a tiny little speck.” 

“You had the whole big net when I was in goal and you still couldn’t score.” 

“I can score just fine.” He stood in front of me and wrapped his arms around my waist. “Want me to prove it?” 

“No!” We were in the middle of a park near the flat we had just looked at. Draco had insisted that we hang around after the tour to get a feel for the neighbourhood since we had made an offer on the flat.

“Aw, where’s your sense of adventure, Potter?” He brushed my fringe out of my face, a soft smile replacing the usual smirk.

“I’ve had a lifetime of adventures. Right now, I’d like to get some food at that pub we walked past and then go home and take a nap.” I yawned to underscore the point of how tired I was. Unlike Draco, I hadn’t gotten in a nap after Hermione left. "Let's go to the pub and then, whilst I nap, you can start researching dog breeds."

“Nope. I’m not going to let you eat until I show you that I can score.” He stole the ball from me and we started to play again. It became a little more like rugby as we were both intent on keeping the other one from the net at any costs. By the time we called a truce, the game had descended into chaos and we were both grass-stained and filthy. “Oh, Potter, look at you.” He pulled bits of grass from my hair. “You are completely adorable.” My heart started to beat double-time. The divorce was final, and he was done holding back. I didn’t realise how bad I needed us to move forward until the possibility was staring in my face.

“Thanks,” I said softly. I pulled a leaf out of his hair and brushed some dirt off of his shoulders. “You’re not so bad looking yourself."

"Flattery like that will get you…” 

“Anything you want?” I finished his sentence.

He took a step in and pulled me tight against him. “All I want is you.” 

I rested my head on his shoulder. Even sweaty and dirty, he still smelled like apples. “You have me." I kissed him on the cheek; it was the first time I'd kissed him at all. “I think a cleaning spell is in order, though. We can’t go out to eat looking like this.”

“Fine.” He pulled his wand out of his pocket and cast the spell. All the stains and dirt disappeared immediately. “Better?” He spun around, showing off his body. “Am I good?”

“Perfect as always.” I laughed. "Hey, Drake," I said as I reached for his hand, "thanks for being so patient over the last year."

"You have got to stop calling me 'Drake'. I fucking hate it.” I shook my head, smirking. I was doing it to piss him off, and he knew it. The fact that it was annoying him made me laugh, so he put up with it. He sighed and rolled his eyes before continuing. “I didn't, I don't, mind. I know it hasn't been an easy year for you with the suicide attempt, your marriage ending, and having a Death Eater force himself on you."

"You never forced yourself on me. I wanted, do want, and will want, you by my side for as long as possible." I saw the tears rise in his eyes and felt my own eyes grow moist. "And it's going to be for the rest of my life. My long life,” I stressed. 

His face lit up at that. "It has been a while since you've struggled... Do you think… are we… out of the woods?"

"I'm not going to make you a promise I may not be able to keep. I've told you that." His face fell the slightest bit. "BUT, I will promise that I will try to hang around as long as you'll have me.”

“As I’ve said, I'll be thankful for whatever time I was able to spend with you.”


	18. Scruff and ginger hair

We had played our football-turned-rugby game for so long, that we ended up eating a late dinner at the pub. Draco ordered a chilli cheese dawg, mostly because of the name, which made us both giggle. I stuck to a simple burger, but took a few bites of his dawg. It was incredible; much better than the name suggested. We were just finishing our meal when a ginger took the stage to set up his guitar and start tuning. “Is it really that late?” Draco looked at his expensive wristwatch. “Half eight already? Wow.”

“Do you want to stay for a bit and check him out? It’s not like it’s a long way back to mine. I mean, we might as well get used to the neighbourhood.” 

“You’re more excited to be moving here than I am, aren’t you?”

“Maybe.” I reached across the table and grabbed his hand. “I’m just excited to have a fresh start. In a new town where no one knows who I am, without any constant reminders of the War, with someone who loves me for who I am, warts and all.” Tears welled up in my eyes.

“Hey, Harry, it’s OK.” He got up and moved so that he was sitting next to me. “None of us got through the War unscathed. You’re just a little wartier than most, but so am I.” His arm came around my shoulders and I leaned against him. He pressed his lips to the side of my head. “I’m glad we got a second chance.” 

I was, too, but I struggled to find the words to say so. As it was, the singer had started his first set and I felt it would be rude to talk over him. Instead of continuing our conversation, I rested my head on Draco’s shoulder. After a few lines of the song, I sat up and looked at Draco. “Holy shite. Do you know who this is?”

Draco looked around and read the chalkboard next to the stage. “Ed Sheeran? Who’s that?” As Ed hit the chorus, his eyes widened.

“This? This is that bloke that sings all those new songs I like?”

“Yeah.” I smiled as I reached out and tousled his hair so that it looked like Ed’s. “All you need is some scruff and ginger hair and you’ll look just like him.” He glared at me, but instead of saying anything, he pulled me tighter to his side.

A few people had gotten up and started to dance. As the first song quickly wound to a close, Draco pulled me up. “Let’s dance.” I smiled and let him lead me to the dance floor. Draco placed his hands on my hips, as I wrapped my arms around his neck. 

“ _Settle down with me. Cover me up, cuddle me in. Lie down with me and hold me in your arms. And your heart’s against my chest. Your lips pressed to my neck. I’m falling for your eyes, but they don’t know me yet. And a feeling I’ll forget. I’m in love now…_ ” Draco sang to me as he moved us around the dance floor. It was ridiculously romantic and while I knew he had it in him, it surprised me to be the recipient. 

When that song ended, Ed launched right into the next one. Draco pulled me even tighter against him, and sang to me again: _“And I'm thinking 'bout how people fall in love in mysterious ways. Maybe just the touch of a hand. Well, me - I fall in love with you every single day, and I just wanna tell you I am. So, honey, now, take me into your loving arms, kiss me under the light of a thousand stars, place your head on my beating heart. I'm thinking out loud. Maybe we found love right where we are.”_

—————

We shut the bar down and then stayed to chat with the singer. After almost the entire day out of the house, we’d finally made it back to mine. We stood in the doorway, me fumbling with my keys and him just standing there, watching me, a small smile on his face. The keys fell out of my hand and he scooped down to pick them up. He stuck them into his pocket and then took a step forward. "I've been waiting to do this since I was eleven years old." His lips brushed against mine, and my stomach clenched. 

I roughly pushed him away and apparated to the bathroom. I was throwing up my dinner when he knelt next to me. "Am I really that bad a kisser?" I knew he was joking, but he made me feel even worse. 

I groaned and braced for another round of puking. "No."

"What? Is it because I'm male?"

"No. It's because I love you, and bad things happen to the people I love.”

"You're not gay," he stated dully, before he realised what I said. "Wait. What did you just say?"

"I said 'I love you', you stupid ferret!" I sighed and turned back to the toilet.

"Now? You decide to tell me now? In the middle of barfing your brains out? Potter, your timing stinks."

"Like I planned to tell you this way!" I took a drink of water and sat back. 

He brushed his fingers through my hair and kissed the side of my head. “I love you, too.” He cast a cleaning spell, ridding my mouth of the leftover vomit and then apparated us back outside. “I wish I had a time-turner,” he sighed.

“I don’t. This feels more like us.” I smiled and fidgeted. “As you were saying earlier?”

He wrapped his arms around my waist and rubbed the tip of my nose with his. “I’ve been waiting to do this since I was eleven years old.” This time, when his lips touched mine, I returned the kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may or may not be a little excited about the fact that my husband bought us tickets to see Ed Sheeran in Boston…


	19. Go Back to Sleep

I tossed a bunch of jeans and pants into a cardboard box and taped it shut. “It’s so weird to think that it’s really over between Gin and I.” The divorce had been finalised two months ago and we’d just gotten back from the solicitor’s where she and I signed our house over to the new owners. Now that the house was sold, Draco and I were finally packing our things and preparing to move to our new flat.

He pushed a box aside and sat on the floor. “Are you sad?” He watched my face carefully. I couldn’t blame him - my moods had been all over the place lately. The closer we had gotten to moving out of the house Ginny and I had shared, the more I kept feeling like I had let Ginny and her family down. Then I would feel guilty that I was thinking about her instead of Draco, and then I’d feel bad that I was thinking about Draco, and then I’d feel guilty that I wasn’t thinking of the woman I’d been married to for five years… it was an endless cycle that had been ending with me in deep depressions. Not quite bad enough to drive me to kill myself, but bad enough to make me wonder if it wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all. It was the first step down a slippery slope I knew too well. “I know it’s been rough for you.” 

“I’m sad, yeah. We were together for a long time. We were supposed to be together forever. I promised her.” I moved to the floor and sat in front of him. I leaned against his chest and let him wrap his arms around me. I relaxed into his touch. “I don’t understand why I feel so bad about this. She deserves a chance to be happy with someone. I can’t make her happy anymore.”

“You feel bad because you have a good heart. It’s the Gryffindork in you.” 

I smiled at the nickname. He’d been calling me that since the mood swings started, because it made me laugh. “I guess so. We were together a long time, and her family took me in and treated me like one of their own… until the War.” I sighed. “I don’t have a family any more. No parents, no Godfather, no Weasleys, no wife…”

“Hey,” he said softly, “I’m a member of the Dead Parents Club, too.”

I blushed a deep red. I was such an arse. “I’m sorry. I was too wrapped up in my shitty life.”

“I know.” He started pushing me so I would turn around and face him. Once I did, he cupped my chin in his hand. “I know. It’s OK.”

“But it’s not!”

“Potter, how many times do I need to tell you that you can do whatever it takes, feel however you want to, say whatever you want to? I don’t care.”

“You should.”

“But I don’t because I…”

“DON’T SAY IT!” I hadn’t meant to shout. “You know how I feel about that…” I dropped my head and refused to look at him. 

“Everyone you love dies. I know. I guess it’s a good thing you don’t love me.” I looked up in shock. Did he really think that? I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but instead he smirked at me. “You didn’t have any trouble saying it that night after our first date. And I certainly didn’t have any trouble saying it back.”

“But…” I shook my head. “You don’t understand.” 

“Harry, everybody dies, whether or not you love them. That's how life works." He sounded exasperated and I dropped my head again. I expected an angry outburst. Instead, he pressed his lips against my scar. “You’re such a numpty.” 

“But I’m your numpty?” I hated the way that it turned into a question. As if I had any doubt that I was his, and he was mine. 

“For as long as you’ll have me.” 

“Forever, then?” 

“Forever.” He smiled and then he kissed me, a gentle pressing of his lips against mine. 

—————

I lay, staring at the ceiling, wishing I could fall back asleep. Next to me, Draco snored softly, the sheets pooled around his waist, showing the trail of fine, blond, hair that ended at his groin. He was naked under the sheets, as was I, and I smiled at the memory of how we’d wound up that way. I rolled to my side and began to stroke the fine hair, pushing it off of his face. Trying to express through touch what I was afraid to say in words. 

When he came to my room at Mungo’s that night, I didn’t know what to expect. 

“Potter, you twat. Go back to sleep.”

Now I knew. I had an incredible partner who loved me for me. Who was patient and romantic and caring… “POTTER. STOP PLAYING WITH MY HAIR AND GO BACK TO SLEEP.” …and a right fucking bastard when he was woken up in the middle of the night. 

I laughed and settled my head on his chest, arm wrapped around his waist. He tightened his arm around me and kissed me on the top of my head. “Sorry, Malfoy. I was just thinking.”

He sighed and squeezed me tighter to his side. “You really need to stop doing that.” 

I laughed again and tilted my head up to kiss him. “What if I was thinking about that thing we did before we fell asleep?”

“Well, in that case, you can think about it as much as you want.” He kissed me again. “But seriously, go the fuck back to sleep. You know I need eight hours or I look a mess.”

I rolled onto my side and waited for his body to wrap around mine. I yawned and closed my eyes. In the beginning, all I knew was that he had made me want to kill myself less. Now, I knew that while I was never going to shake that feeling completely, I also knew that I wanted to stay alive as long as possible. 

I felt happy, I felt understood, I felt loved, I felt safe and for the first time in my life, I felt like I had a future, an amazing future, just waiting for me to go out and experience it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for making it to the end! 
> 
> If you liked this one, you'll probably like my other Drarry fic, [I Believe You](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3364991/chapters/7359482). Personally, I think it's much better than this one...


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